* 


P/V  3 

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. 


THE  ATHENIAN  DRAMA 

A  Series  of  Verse  Translations  from  the  Greek  Dramatic 
Poets,  with  Commentaries  and  Explanatory 
Essays,  for  English  Readers 


VOL.  II 


SOPHOCLE  S 


UNIFORM  WITH  THIS  VOLUME 


Crown  8vo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  Js.  6d.  each,  net. 
Each  Volume  Illustrated  from  ancient  Sculptures 
and  Painting. 


Volume  I 

AESCHYLUS  :  The  Ores  lean  Trilogy.  By  Prof. 
Warr.  With  an  Introduction  on  The  Rise 
of  Greek  Tragedy,  and  13  Illustrations. 

Volume  III 

EURIPIDES:  Hippolytus  ;  Bacchae ;  Aristo¬ 
phanes’  Frogs.  By  Prof.  Gilbert  Murray. 
With  an  Appendix  on  the  Lost  Tragedies  of 
Euripides,  and  an  Introduction  on  the  Signifi¬ 
cance  of  The  Bacchae  in  Athenian  History,  and 
12  Illustrations  and  Painting.  Fourth  Edition. 


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Allen  &  Co.  Sc 


SOPHOCLES 


SOPHOCLES 


TRANSLATED  AND  EXPLAINED  BY 

JOHN  SWINNERTON  PHILLIMORE,  M.A. 

PROFESSOR  OF  GREEK  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  GLASGOW 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 


SECOND  EDITION 


NEW  YORK 

LONGMANS,  GREEN  AND  CO. 

LONDON  :  GEORGE  ALLEN  &  COMPANY,  LTD. 

1912 

[All  rights  reserved] 


IOf  1  IMIMI  LIBRARY 

BILL.  W  '  - 


Printed  in  Great  Britain 


n 


Printed  by  Ballantyne,  Hanson  <5r>  Co. 
At  the  Ballantyne  Press,  Edinburgh 


PREFACE 


“  If,  because  of  the  immense  fame  of  the  following  Tragedy ,  1 
wished  to  acquaint  myself  with  it,  and  could  only  do  so  by  the 
help  oj  a  translator ,  I  should  require  him  to  be  literal  at  every 
cost  save  that  of  absolute  violence  to  our  language .  ...  I 
would  be  tolerant  for  once — in  the  case  of  so  immensely  famous 
an  original — of  even  a  clumsy  attempt  to  furnish  me  with  the 
very  turn  of  each  phrase  in  as  Greek  a  fashion  as  English  will 
bear.” — Browning  :  Preface  to  the  translation  of  Aga¬ 
memnon. 

“  Car  .  .  .  une  methode ,  seule,  exisle,  honnete  et  logique ,  de 
traduction  :  la  litteralite  impersonnelle  a  peine  attenuee  pour  juste 
le  rapide  pH  de  paupiere  et  savourer  longuement.  .  .  .  Elle 
produit ,  suggestive ,  la  plus  grande  puissance  litteraire.  Elle 
fait  le  plaisir  evocatoire.  Elle  recree  en  indiquant.  Elle  est 
le  plus  sur  garant  de  verite.  Elle  plonge ,  ferme ,  en  sa  nudite 
de  pierre.  Elle  fleure  V drome  primitif  et  le  cristallise.  Elle 
devide  et  delie.  .  .  .  Elle  fxe.  Certes  si  la  litteralite  enchaine 
V esprit  divaguant  et  le  dompte ,  elle  arrete  Pinfernale  facilite  de 
la  plume.” — Un  mot  du  traducteur  a  ses  amis,  J.  C. 
Mardrus.  Preface  to  the  Arabian  Nights. 

1HAVE  prefixed  as  the  phylactery  of  this 
book  these  two  quotations  ;  but  there  are 
one  or  two  other  matters  of  which  the  reader 
(or  he  that  keeps  the  reader’s  conscience)  may 
expect  that  some  account  be  given.  Firstly, 

V 


VI 


PREFACE 


why  rhymed  couplets  instead  of  the  traditional 
blank  verse  ? 

I  will  not  cite  Dryden  in  defence  of  the 
rhymed  couplet  for  dramatic  verse,  because  I 
might  be  answered  with  Dryden’s  recantation. 
The  great  difficulty  of  English  blank  verse 
might  be  excuse  enough  ;  but  if  a  translator 
meekly  confesses,  “  I  cannot  write  blank  verse” 
the  critic,  unappeased,  may  retort,  “  Then  don't 
translate  Sophocles !  ” 

But  in  truth  I  hold  that  the  rhymed  and  not 
the  blank  verse  is  nearer  the  Sophoclean  pitch 
of  language.  Sophocles  moves,  by  predilection, 
in  the  middle  diction,  which  is  common  ground 
to  the  poetical  and  the  prose  style ;  his  dia¬ 
logue  is  colloquially  plain  and  direct ;  in  King 
I  CEdipus  especially  his  vocabulary  resembles  that 
which  Antiphon  employed  in  prose  to  plead  his 
cases,  real  or  imaginary.  Now  English  blank 
verse  must  (to  my  thinking)  be  always  in  full 
dress  if  it  is  to  succeed — perpetually  sonorous, 
balanced,  aloof  from  the  ordinary.  True, 
Byron’s  noble  dramatic  verse  is  unrhymed,  but 
too  rhetorical  for  Sophocles,  who  is  (with 
^  rare  exceptions)  notably  pure  from  rhetoric. 
Wordsworth  tried  to  abolish  the  distinction 
between  verse  and  prose  ;  we  may  bless  him  for 
easing  poetical  diction,  but  most  of  his  blank 
verse  might  conveniently  be  printed  as  prose. 


PREFACE 


•  * 

Vll 

The  rhymed  couplet  gives  a  perpetual  reser¬ 
vation  within  which  to  approximate,  as  near  as 
may  be,  to  prose.  With  Chaucer,  Dryden, 
Pope,  Keats,  Shelley,  and  the  Victorians  before 
us,  what  bounds  can  we  set  to  the  aptitude  of 
this  metre  ?  The  eighteenth  century  had  tied 
it  up  in  antithetical,  epigrammatic  bondage,  but 
a  hundred  years  of  reaction  have  freed  it  again. 
So  Ovid  killed  the  elegiac  couplet  in  Latin  for 
all  purposes  but  wit ;  only,  in  Latin,  no  poet 
arose  to  revive  it.  Between  the  dry,  tense 
brilliance  of  Pope’s  couplet  and  the  moribund 
wateriness  of  William  Morris’  archaistic  rhym¬ 
ing,  there  is  room  for  ease  or  elevation,  flow 
or  retort,  argument  and  narrative,  music  and 
cleverness  ;  the  couplet  is  capable  of  all  the 
grandeur  of  blank  verse,  and  yet  through  all 
colloquialism  of  diction  or  construction  the 
rhyme  is  present  to  reassure  the  ear.  Perhaps 
to  confess  an  ambition  is  only  to  offer  an 
estimate  of  one’s  own  failure  ;  however,  I  will 
confess  that  I  have  often  coveted  the  joyous 
brilliancy  and  unembarrassed  current  of  Ros¬ 
tand’s  dramatic  verse  ;  and  I  still  believe  that, 
given  our  five  foot  couplet  for  the  French 
Alexandrine,  a  like  success  is  feasible  in  English, 
though  sadly  far  from  realised  in  these  pages. 

Next,  the  matter  of  Choruses.  The  late 
Mr.  Warr  in  his  companion  volume  of 


Vlll 


PREFACE 


Aeschylus  adopted  the  device  of  “  rhythmical 
prose.”  Perhaps  it  is  foolhardy  to  attempt 
more.  But  I  felt  that  my  rhymed  couplets 
prohibited  me  from  leaving  the  choruses  to 
prose  even  “  rhythmical  ”  ;  and,  I  confess,  was 
not  content  with  giving  the  lyrics  of  Sophocles 
the  air  of  an  irresponsible  canticle  modelled 
on  some  jingle  from  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern 
interpolated  in  the  midst  of  dramatic  action. 

“  Changing  passions ,  and  numbers  changing 
with  those  passions ,  make  the  whole  secret  of 
Western  as  well  as  Eastern  poetry ,”  says  Gold¬ 
smith’s  ingenious  Chinaman.  And  if  the 
words  were  married  by  the  poet  to  a  rhythm 
dochmiac,  logacedic,  glyconic,  anapaestic,  as 
the  case  may  be,  surely  (in  obedience  to  the 
text  on  my  phylactery)  the  translator’s  task 
must  be  to  produce  such  words  as  might  con¬ 
veniently  be  chanted  to  the  poet’s  music  (if  by 
some  divine  accident  the  sands  of  Egypt  should 
ever  restore  it),  or  to  a  modern  music  which 
should  observe  the  same  rhythm.  It  would 
be  idle  to  hope  that  my  choruses  will  afford 
the  reader  a  pleasure  bearing  any  tolerable 
proportion  to  the  extreme  labour  spent  upon 
them  ;  but  I  felt  myself  in  honesty  bound  to 
hazard  this  system  for  representing  (to  such 
a  reader  as  Browning  imagines)  what  kind  of 
thing  a  Sophoclean  chorus  is.  I  need  not 


PREFACE 


IX 


weary  him  by  explaining  the  various  treat¬ 
ments  I  have  experimented  upon  in  the  met¬ 
rical  pauses  or  rests  which  make  the  Greek 
cadence,  especially  in  the  penultimate  of  the 
lyric  period. 

I  have  sometimes  taken  the  licence  to  rhyme 
across  from  Turn  (strophe)  to  Counter-turn  (anti¬ 
strophe),  but  after  King  CEdipus  this  plan  has 
been  abandoned. 

Lastly,  obligations.  A  naturally  thievish 
memory  has  forbidden  me  to  look  at  other 
verse  translations  of  my  author ;  but  by  the 
high  value  of  his  critical  contributions  to 
Sophoclean  study,  I  can  judge  how  great  is 
my  loss  in  the  case  of  Mr.  Whitelaw’s  version. 
I  owe  it  to  Sir  Richard  Jebb  that  so  little 
commentary  is  needed  to  this  volume ;  and 
what  little  there  is,  is  in  great  measure  a  debt 
to  him  also.  His  great  edition  is  so  complete 
and  judicious  that  for  many  years  to  come  all 
Sophoclean  criticism  must  be  expressed  in 
terms  of  differing  or  agreeing  with  him.  I 
have  only  departed  from  his  view  in  three  or 
four  passages ;  and  having  his  translation  per¬ 
force  before  me,  where  it  offered  the  one 
right  word  to  render  the  Greek  or  to  suit 
the  metre,  I  have  not  avoided  the  sin  of  plagi¬ 
arism  ;  but  I  hope  my  loans  will  not  be  judged 
excessive  in  this  particular. 


X 


PREFACE 


But  (as  in  sermons)  even  “  lastly  ”  is  not  the 
end  :  there  is  one  matter  more. 

Goldsmith’s  ingenious  Chinaman — to  quote 
him  once  again — is  demonstrated  by  the  Eng¬ 
lish  writer  of  Eastern  Tales  to  be  no  China¬ 
man  at  all,  and  to  “  have  nothing  of  the  true 
Eastern  manner  in  his  delivery.”  The  Orien¬ 
talist  then  proceeds  to  detail  the  ingredients 
of  the  “  true  manner,”  and  among  them  boasts, 
“  I  have  used  thee  and  thou  upon  all  occasions.” 
So,  too,  our  English  classical  convention,  to 
the  great  misappreciation,  I  believe,  of  certain 
Greek  authors. 

If  I  am  right  in  my  estimate  of  the  pitch 
of  Sophocles’  manner,  then  the  indiscriminate 
use  of  thee  and  thou  is  ruled  out  by  his  delibe¬ 
rate  approximation  to  the  prose  diction  of  his 
day ;  as  for  the  discriminate  use,  an  Age  of 
Progress  has  unhappily  shorn  our  language 
of  this  beautiful  resource  and  given  it  to  the 
Quakers.  There  are  many  verbs  quite  within 
the  modern  poetical  range,  which  become  un¬ 
couth  when  they  are  written  in  the  second 
person  singular,  from  the  general  disuse  of  that 
inflection.  In  the  lyrics  the  case  stands  differ¬ 
ently  ;  the  I  wot  and  I  ween  style  of  English 
not  unfairly  renders  the  strange  convention  of 
dialect  and  diction  which  governs  the  Tragic 
Chorus ;  and  any  extravagance  is  justified 


PREFACE 


XI 


by  the  original.  “  In  no  other  instance  does 
antiquity  appear  to  me  to  have  played  the  fool  so 
much  as  in  this  sort  of  choruses ,  in  which  eloquence 
was  debased  by  an  excessive  affectation  of  novelty , 
and  in  aiming  at  verbal  miracles  all  grasp  of  reality 
was  lost." 

A  harsh  judgment,  and  conditioned  perhaps 
by  defective  texts ;  yet  not  the  judgment  of  a 
flippant  schoolboy,  but  of  the  great  Erasmus. 

J.  S.  P. 


Glasgow,  June  1902. 


CONTENTS 


Preface  .  . 

List  of  Illustrations 
Introduction 

Translation — 

CEdipus  Tyrannus  . 
CEdipus  Coloneus 
Antigone 

Commentary 

Index  . 


PACK 

•  e  o  ft  V 

.  o  .  *  XV 

ft  ft  .  .  xvii 

•  •  •  •  x 

•  •  •  • 

•  •  •  •  J37 

•  e  1  -  201 

£  o  o  .  2  13 


xm 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


it 


Types  of  Greek  Cavalry  ....  Cover 

A  group  from  the  Forman  Vase  in  the  British 
Museum.  5th  century  b.c. 


Sophocles  Photogravure  Frontispiece 

From  a  marble  bust  in  the  British  Museum.  The 
original,  of  which  this  is  an  ancient  copy, 
was  probably  of  the  5th  century  b.c. 


CEdipus  and  the  Sphinx  ....  Page  18 

From  a  painting  in  the  interior  of  a  cup  in  the 
Museo  Gregoriano  in  Rome.  (The  letters 
KaiTpi[Trovv,  issuing  from  the  Sphinx’  mouth, 
are  part  of  the  riddle. 

Teiresias  before  CEdipus  .  .  .  .  34 

From  a  vase  formerly  in  Naples.  4th  century  b.c. 

Finding  of  CEdipus  by  Euphorbos  .  .  ,,  53 

From  a  vase  formerly  in  the  Beugnot  Collection. 

5th  century  b.c. 


Contest  of  Athena  and  Poseidon  for  the 

Attic  Land  .  .  .  .  .  „  89 

From  a  vase  in  the  Hermitage  Museum,  St.  Peters¬ 
burg.  5th  century  b.c. 

Types  of  Greek  Cavalry  .  .  .  .  „  104 

A  group  from  the  Forman  Vase  in  the  British 
Museum.  5th  century  b.c. 


The  Seven  against  Thebes  .  .  120  and  12 1 

From  a  sarcophagus  in  the  Villa  Pamfili,  show¬ 
ing  the  quarrel  of  Eteocles  and  Polynices, 
with  Jocaste  and  Antigone  intervening ;  in 
the  background,  blind  CEdipus  ;  Capaneus 
with  storming  ladder;  Amphiaraus  in 
chariot,  and  dead  chieftains  ;  Eteocles  and 
Polynices  killing  each  other ;  Antigone  re¬ 
moving  corpse  of  Polynices  from  beside  the 
sleeping  watchmen.  Roman  period. 

XV 


XVI 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Thanatos 


Page  127 


Portion  of  drum  of  sculptured  column  from 
Temple  of  Artemis  at  Ephesus,  in  the  British 
,  Museum.  4th  century  b.c. 

Eros  ....... 

Terra-cotta  statuette  in  the  British  Museum. 

Stele  with  Epitaph  of  CEdipus  . 

From  a  vase  in  the  Museo  Nazionale  at  Naples. 
4th  century  b.c. 

Eagle  seizing  a  Snake  .... 
From  a  coin  of  Elis,  of  about  430  b.c. 

Antigone  brought  before  Creon 

From  a  vase  in  the  Berlin  Museum.  4th  cen¬ 
tury  B.C. 

Danae  ( Photogravure )  .  .  .  .  . 

Bronze  Mirror  Case  in  the  British  Museum. 
4th  century  b.c. 


»> 


a 


I36 

I4I 

H5 

171 

179 


Lycurgus  smitten  with  Madness  destroying 

his  Wife  and  Children  .  .  180  and  18  1 

On  p.  180  are  Apollo,  Hermes,  and  (probably) 

Lyssa  (“Madness”);  on  p.  181  Lycurgus 
destroying  his  family.  From  a  vase  in 
the  British  Museum.  4th  century  b.c. 


Dionysus  with  his  Thiasos  of  Satyrs  and 

Maenads  ...... 

From  a  vase  in  the  British  Museum.  4th  cen¬ 
tury  B.C. 

“Beehive”  Tomb  ..... 

From  the  Kylix  painted  by  Sotades  in  the  British 
Museum.  4th  century  b.c. 


»» 


189 


197 


INTRODUCTION 


I  find  no  literary  artist  so  difficult  to  seize 
in  exact  mental  portraiture  as  Sophocles : 
Homer  himself  is  hardly  more  impersonal. 
We  praise  the  impersonal ;  coldly,  in  obedi¬ 
ence  to  critical  convention ;  but  the  old  Adam 
of  curiosity  hankers  after  the  autobiographical 
touch  of  allusion,  the  literary  egoism  which 
brings  our  author  down  into  refreshing  con¬ 
tact  with  earth.  Aeschylum  laudo ,  Euripidem 
lego ,  said  an  English  scholar  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  Aeschylus  is  impersonal  in  a  sense ; 
but  I  distinguish :  Aeschylus  is  impersonal 
because  he  is  too  big  for  self-consciousness. 
Not  with  the  impersonality  of  Sophocles. 
You  can  see  the  difference  most  clearly  in 
this :  that  Aeschylus  was  an  open  field  for 
parody,  even  to  a  satiric  poet  who  loved  and 
admired  him.  Aristophanes,  nay,  a  much  less 
skilled  hand,  could  catch  the  external  manner 
of  Aeschylus,  so  that  any  one  must  laugh  at 
the  mimicry.  You  could  parody  Marlowe,  but 
not  Shakespeare  :  why  ? 

XYii 


SOPHOCLES 


xviii 

Let  me  defer  the  answer  for  a  moment,  and 
go  round  to  another  line  of  approach. 

There  are  few  people  who  make  Sopho¬ 
cles  their  favourite  among  the  Triumvirs  of 
Tragedy,  few  who  can  echo  M.  Arnold — 

But  be  his 

My  special  thanks ,  whose  even-balanced  soul , 

From  first  youth  tested  up  to  extreme  old  age , 

Business  could  not  make  dull ,  nor  passion  wild  ; 

Who  saw  life  steadily ,  and  saw  it  whole , 

The  mellow  glory  of  the  Attic  stage , 

Singer  of  sweet  Colonus1  and  its  child. 

Partly,  perhaps,  because  wre  love  authors  no 
less  for  their  faults  than  their  virtues ;  we 
take  an  easy  and  satisfying  grasp  of  promi¬ 
nent  characteristics.  Once  familiar  with  an 
author,  his  mannerisms  tickle  the  sense  of 
initiation.  Personality  fascinates,  even  ex¬ 
pressed  in  growths  which  tend  towards  the 
extravagant  and  the  grotesque.  Self  hungers 
after  its  own  mystery,  and  seeks  for  the  Self 
in  another  communicated  by  artistic  interpre¬ 
tation.  And  it  is  the  self  which  eludes  us  in 

Sophocles. 

But  if  most  moderns  (who  care,  or  who 
are  qualified  to  care,  for  any  of  them)  prefer 
Aeschylus  or  Euripides,  the  Greeks  themselves 
did  not.  His  unequalled  continuity  of  suc¬ 
cess  on  the  stage  proves  the  judgment  of  his 


/ 


INTRODUCTION 


xix 


contemporaries ;  but  even  more  significant  for 
our  purposes  is  the  opinion  of  Greek  posterity. 
I  need  not  remind  the  reader  that  Sophocles* 
practice  is  repeatedly  Aristotle’s  example  of 
some  canon  in  the  formulation  of  dramatic 
technique.  And  he  was  not  the  favourite  of 
the  critics  only.  Look  at  Xenophon’s  testi¬ 
mony.  -He  makes  Socrates  ask  Aristodemus1 
who  are  his  chief  objects  of  admiration  for 
artistic  skill :  Aristodemus  replies,  “  Homer 
in  Epic ,  Melanippides  in  Dithyramb ,  Sophocles 
in  Tragedy ,  Polycleitus  in  Statuary ,  Zeuxis  in 
Painting .” 

It  is  the  judgment  of  the  man  in  the  street 
— the  street  of  Athens.  Just  so  his  modern 
analogue  would  answer  ‘  Shakespeare  ’ ;  only 
an  exquisite  could  say  ‘  Marlowe .’  Why  ? 

Now  we  can  answer  both  questions  at  once  : 
because  he  is  the  artistic  embodiment  of  an 
age,  of  a  national  spirit  in  a  given  age,  of — 
to  clench  it  in  a  comprehensive  term  —  a 
civilisation.  By  that  word  I  mean  the  whole 
sum  of  expression  of  the  passions,  fancies, 
reasonings,  principles,  aspirations  of  a  people. 
“ A  civilisation ,”  says  a  penetrating  writer  of 
the  school  of  Taine,"  “is  a  balance  of  qualities 
and  defects .” 

Again  :  “  There  are  five  or  six  categories  of 

1  Mem.  A.,  iv.  a  M.  Bar  res. 


XX 


SOPHOCLES 


facts  or  ideas  which  are  the  natural  framework , 
and  afterwards  continue  to  he  the  evidences ,  for 
any  civilisation  worthy  of  the  name .  They  are : 
language  and  grammar ,  religious  dogma  and 
worship ,  literature  and  fine-art ,  philosophy  and 
science ,  Jor/W  organisation  and  political  in¬ 
stitutions .” 1 

If  one  man  can  give  the  artistic  embodiment 
of  a  civilisation,  he  is  the  Classic  of  that  time. 
Those  who  love  him,  love  the  Civilisation 
which  he  mirrors ;  if  we  are  coldly  affected 
towards  him,  it  is  because  we  have  not  realised 
his  message.  If  we  desiderate  personality  in 
him,  it  is  because  we  have  not  perceived  that 
his  personality  is  the  personality  of  a  people 
and  an  age,  individualised  by  the  artist.  If 
you  try  to  parody  Sophocles — except  in  the 
merest  verbal  accidents  in  him — you  will  be 
parodying  the  Periclean  Age ;  as  in  Shakespeare 
the  Elizabethan  England. 

This  is  not  to  say  that  Sophocles  is  greater 
than  Aeschylus.  I  would  contest  that  Milton 
is  not  the  representative  poet  of  the  seven¬ 
teenth  century,  though  he  is  its  greatest  name. 
Perhaps  there  are  epochs  too  transitional  to 
admit  the  representative  poet,  epochs  like  the 
boastful,  chaotic  century  we  have  just  buried, 

1  Taine  summarised  by  Boutmy,  Le  Parthenon  et  le  Ginie  Grec, 
Pref.  xiv. 


INTRODUCTION 


XXI 


which  are  mere  preparatory  shufflings,  irregular 
dartings  and  radiatings  which  precede  a  new 
crystallisation.  But  even  in  an  organised  civi¬ 
lisation  the  grand  eccentric — an  Aeschylus  or 
a  Milton — may  be  the  paramount  figure.  And 
it  is  then  we  need  to  redress  a  mental  bias  in 
order  to  appreciate  duly  the  representative 
great  poet,  great  without  lawlessness,  not  by 
the  bursting  vehemence  of  prophetic  individu¬ 
ality,  great  and  normal. 

I  believe  we  might  point  to  an  analogy  in 
Painting,  but  it  would  detain  us  too  long  to 
elaborate.  Modern  fancy  has  turned  in  the 
Italian  Schools  with  peculiar  admiration  to  the 
great  Primitives  or  to  the  salient  personal  touch 
of  a  Michelangiolo,  and  declared  it  humdrum 
to  repeat  the  praises  lavished  by  the  eighteenth 
century  on  Raphael.  But  the  eighteenth  cen¬ 
tury  was  an  organic  unit,  a  civilisation  in  the 
sense  above  outlined,  and  what  they  saw  in 
Raphael  was  a  perfect  artistic  embodiment  of 
another  civilisation ;  Raphael  is  the  ripeness  of 
the  Italian  Renaissance,  as  Sophocles  is  the  |/ 
Periclean  Age. 

If,  then,  this  is  the  clue  to  Sophocles,  we  must 
try  to  form,  though  only  in  rough  outline, 
some  image  of  the  Periclean  Age.  Chapters, 
nay  volumes,  have  been  written  on  it.  In  short 
compass  I  know  nothing  so  rich  in  penetrative 


SOPHOCLES 


xxii 

enthusiasm  as  E.  Boutmy’s  Le  Parthenon ,  &c. ; 
but  Beloch  has  a  very  telling  chapter,  highly 
compressed,  but  with  well-managed  emphasis, 
and  calculated  to  nip  certain  sentimental  ex¬ 
aggerations  which  forget  the  background  of 
savagery  in  Athens  of  the  fifth  century. 

7  The  note  of  the  time  is  Harmony.  It  is  the 
extraordinary  harmonious  parity  of  develop¬ 
ment  in  every  branch  of  human  activity  at  once. 
Sparta  after  the  Persian  wars  surrenders  the 
headship  of  Greece  ‘from  craven  fears  of  being 
great  ’ :  Athens,  full  of  ambition  and  conscious 
power,  succeeds.  The  elements  which  go  to 
make  up  her  position  in  the  middle  of  the 
century  are,  in  abstract,  these  :  a  sudden,  enor¬ 
mous  increase  of  population  induced  by  her 
liberal  policy  towards  immigration ;  the  intoxi¬ 
cating  self-revelation,  the  awakening  of  national 
consciousness,  caused  by  the  miraculous  achieve¬ 
ment  of  defeating  Persia ;  the  vast  and  sudden 
affluence  of  wealth  from  the  tribute  and  from 
the  expansion  of  commerce — and  this  at  a  time 
when  the  purchasing  power  of  money  was  very 
high.  Athens  by  position  was  the  meeting 
point  of  the  Dorian  and  the  Ionian  world,  and 
now  there  was  added  an  extraordinary  inter¬ 
mingling  of  classes,  races,  and  types,  stimulat¬ 
ing  every  kind  of  activity.  A  community  of 
merchant  princes  has  ever  been  a  hotbed  of  art; 


INTRODUCTION  xxiii 

they  abounded  at  Athens ;  and  the  State  itself 
was  collectively  a  merchant  prince,  like  Genoa 
or  Venice  or  Florence  in  their  great  days.  The 
artistic  impulse  was  deep-seated  in  the  Attic 
nature ;  the  Pisistratids  had  fostered  it,  as 
Tyranny  all  over  Greece  fostered  it.  But  now 
Athens  was  to  prove  that  abnegation  of  political 
activity  is  not  a  necessary  condition  to  its 
development,  but  that  it  can  be  carried  to  the 
highest  excellence  concurrently  with  the  de¬ 
ployment  of  every  other  energy  of  the  human 
character. 

She  was  mistress  of  Greece  for  a  brief  season 
after  the  reduction  of  Boeotia,  and  though  the 
process  of  dissolution  began  within  a  generation, 
her  spirit  was  not  broken  till  the  Peloponnesian 
War  had  run  some  twenty  years. 

She  was  heiress  of  the  science  and  philosophy 
of  Ionia ;  she  gathered  and  absorbed  the  feeble 
beginnings  of  literary  art  which  the  Dorian  put 
forth  in  tragedy  and  comedy ;  she  borrowed  the 
poetry  and  rhetoric  of  Sicily  ;  she  borrowed 
the  sculpture  and  architecture  of  her  Western 
neighbours.  And  all  that  she  borrowed  she 
raised  to  a  new  power.  Of  the  sturdy,  heavy 
Doric  order  of  building  she  made  a  Parthenon; 
from  the  stiff  Argive  and  Aeginetan  schools 
in  sculpture  she  evolved  a  Phidias.  It  was 
reserved  for  her  to  actualise  the  possible  graces 


XXIV 


SOPHOCLES 


of  every  form  in  which  man  strives  to  touch 
the  idea  of  Beauty. 

And  at  the  same  time  every  individual 
citizen  of  Athens  was  a  rupawog,  despot  over 
half  the  Greek  world  in  military  dominion, 
and  Tvpawos  in  that  for  his  pride  and  enjoy¬ 
ment  the  greatest  masters  of  Poetry,  Sculpture, 
Architecture,  Oratory  brought  their  emulous 
tribute.  The  Periclean  State  Socialism  paid 
him  a  living  wage  for  condescending  to  per¬ 
form  his  duties;  a  vast  mass  of  slaves  lay 
crushed  to  consolidate  the  foundations  of  his 
magnificence. 

He  was  never  long  enough  at  peace  to 
become  hebetated  ;  the  glory  of  Athens  began 
in  war  and  bloomed  through  war.  Ruskin’s 
splendid  denial  that  Peace  is  a  nurse  of  arts  is 
exemplified  in  the  Greek  States.  Look  at  the 
barren  record  of  communities  which  like  Argos 
stood  aloof  in  long  periods  of  sluggishness ! 
Pericles  surveying  Athens  from  his  height 
might  have  said  that  never  had  man  individu¬ 
ally  and  collectively  lived  so  full  and  rich  an 
existence,  with  such  noble  scope  and  equip¬ 
ment  for  the  exercise  and  satisfaction  of  every 
aptitude.  And  the  Athenian  listening  to  his 
Olympian  First  Citizen  could  not  but  see 
typified  in  Pericles  the  perfect  norm  of  the 
city’s  intense  and  luxuriant  being. 


INTRODUCTION 


xxv 


I  have  said  that  the  dissolution  of  empire 
began  in  the  same  generation  which  had  reared 
that  empire  to  its  extreme  height.  Brevis  in 
perfecto  mora  is  the  text  of  a  tragedy  in  which 
nations  are  actors.  A  number  of  various 
confluent  forces  crystallise  into  a  civilisation ; 
and  no  sooner  is  the  organic  unit  perfected  than 
its  undoing  begins,  its  elements  fly  off  into  new 
combinations.  The  unmaking  of  Athens  begins 
the  making  of  the  Hellenistic  civilisation. 

The  spiritual  dissolution  of  the  Periclean 
Age  is  present  no  doubt  in  germ  from  very 
early  in  its  formation.  But  it  was  late  before 
the  worm  of  rationalism  became  active  in  the 
mass.  Greece  had  been  inoculated  against 
scepticism  by  the  religious  counter-reformation 
of  beliefs,  which  we  see  exemplified  in  Pindar 
and  Aeschylus.  The  general  conscience  of 
Athens  was  satisfied  with  its  religion  as  ex¬ 
pressed  by  the  finer  spirits.  The  solvent 
voices  of  Anaxagoras,  Euripides,  Socrates  were 
still  only  making  disciples  in  the  conventicle. 
And  Athens  rejected  Anaxagoras  in  spite  of 
Pericles’  favour,  as  she  rejected  the  anti¬ 
national  influence  of  Aspasia  ;  Euripides  could 
only  get  his  sceptic  cup  accepted  by  copiously 
sweetening  the  lip  with  ironical  flattery;  Socrates 
was  perhaps  only  known  to  his  fellow  towns¬ 
men  as  a  crank  and  a  bore  during  the  time 


XXVI 


SOPHOCLES 


that  he  was  breeding,  in  an  Alcibiades  and  a 
Critias,  the  revolutions  of  the  future. 

The  national  idea,  then,  of  the  day  was  an 
active,  harmonious  enjoyment  of  the  faculties 
of  life.  Body  and  soul  were  trained  pari  passu 
in  education  ;  citizen  and  individual — each  was 
at  his  highest  power.  The  true  Periclean  is  too 
busy  fighting,  voting,  judging,  administering, 
imbibing  daily  education  from  Plastic,  Music, 
Rhetoric,  Poetry,  enjoying  the  recollections  of 
glory  still  fresh,  the  exercise  of  capacities  of 
self-realisation  not  yet  staled,  to  trouble  him¬ 
self  while  he  works  at  his  trade  (the  trade  of 
citizen  added  to  his  individual  vocation  en¬ 
joined  by  the  Solonian  law),  as  to  whether  this 
glorious  new-perfected  instrument  of  language 
is  not  in  truth  a  garment  for  inconsistency  and 
self-delusion,  or  the  Pantheon  in  which  every 
phase  of  his  life  and  thought  is  ideally  sym¬ 
bolised,  in  truth  a  degrading  and  obsolescent 
fiction. 

War  favours  religious,  as  Peace  favours  philo¬ 
sophical,  superstition.  Perhaps  the  very  war 
which  began  the  material  downfall,  helped  in  its 
earlier  stage  to  brace  and  maintain  the  frame¬ 
work  of  life  which  we  call  the  Periclean  civilisa¬ 
tion.  Till  the  imminent  shadow  of  disaster 
darkened  the  bright  confidence  in  herself  which 
had  radiated  into  such  a  complete  circle  of 


INTRODUCTION 


xxv  ii 

energies,  stress  and  danger  made  her  more 
resolutely  vindicate  herself — evince  herself,  her 
national  soul  and  mind  in  the  typical  life  which 
had  been  found  to  express  it. 

Sophocles  was  born  amid  the  origins  of  the 
Athenian  greatness :  Marathon  was  a  child’s 
dream  to  him  ;  the  evacuation  and  destruction 
of  Athens,  the  victory  of  Salamis  a  boy’s 
memory  illuminated  by  his  own  selection  to 
take  a  leading  part  in  the  thanksgiving  festival 
which  followed.  And  his  death  falls  within  a 
few  months  of  the  battle  which  decided  the 
doom  of  Athenian  supremacy.  So  his  life/ 
coincides  with  the  fifth  century. 

We  have  none  of  the  works  of  his  youth 
preserved. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  of  none  of  the  Three 
Tragedians  have  we  any  early  work,  unless  the 
Cyclops  of  Euripides :  perhaps  an  evidence  to 
the  long  apprenticeship  required  in  tragic  art 
before  even  a  master  genius  could  produce  a 
masterpiece.  Ars  longa. 

Of  what  survives,  the  most  (and  the  best) 
belongs  to  the  period  of  incipient  disintegration 
in  that  National  Idea  which  we  figure  him  as 
symbolising.  But  he  symbolises  none  the  less 
truly.  It  has  been  said  that  a  man’s  character 
becomes  set  when  he  is  between  thirty  and  forty; 
by  then  he  has  digested  the  conscious  and 


SOPHOCLES 


xxviii 

unconscious  influences  of  his  breeding  and  his 
studies,  and  after  that  his  mind  is  rigid,  more 
apt  to  react  than  to  receive.  But  the  middle 
years  of  Sophocles’  life  were  such  years  as  might 
well  prolong  the  period  of  elastic  receptivity. 
He  was  not  yet  forty  when  the  fall  of  Aegina 
commenced  the  career  of  Athens  as  a  great 
power  in  Greece  proper  ;  he  was  sixty-five  when 
the  Peloponnesian  War  began.  Within  this  space 
lies  the  period  he  represents.  Yet,  though  he 
write  twenty  years  later  still,  he  is  none  the  less 
a  true  witness  to  the  ideas  of  the  dominant 
date.  Subsequent  changes  reveal  to  him  objec¬ 
tively  the  shape  of  the  perfect  time  they  begin 
to  impair.  He  gives  us  the  spirit  of  the  Peri- 
clean  world,  with  something  of  the  analytic 
judgment  of  one  who  sees  his  ideal  all  the  more 
clearly  by  comparison  with  the  new  times  into 
which  he  has  outlived.  Tennyson  to  the  day 
of  his  death  is  still  the  man  of  the  fifties, 
appreciating,  judging,  partially  assimilating — 
but  not  incarnating  the  nineties. 

Riches  and  success  contribute  not  a  little 
perhaps  to  the  making  of  such  a  typical 
person.  The  struggling,  discontented  con¬ 
temporary  is  thrown  forward  to  anticipate. 
Sophocles  and  Euripides  are  well-nigh  coevals, 
but  the  unsuccessful  ‘  greengrocer’s  son  ’  is  in¬ 
tellectually  and  spiritually  generations  ahead  of 


INTRODUCTION 


xxix 


* 


the  rich,  leisured  son  of  Sophillus  the  merchant, 
who  liked  his  times  and  was  liked  by  them. 
Perhaps  no  one  but  a  man  of  the  rich,  culti¬ 
vated  mercantile  class  was  so  fit  to  be  the 
literary  voice  of  the  commercial  aristocracy, 
which  made  the  earlier  party  of  Pericles, 
and  which  he  used  to  enfranchise  the  full 
democracy  that  succeeded  it.  It  is  the 
same  class  to  which  Herodotus  belongs  in 
Ionia;  the  same  which  afterwards  produced 
Lysias  (most  Philistine  of  Classics)  and  Plato. 
Easy  circumstances  allowed  the  development 
of  the  artistic  instincts  natural  in  the  race ; 
and  travel,  confined  in  those  days  to  the 
purposes  of  war  or  commerce,  brought  an 
enormous  influence  into  the  thought  of  the 
time.  There  is  a  vivid  passage  in  De  Quincey’s 
Essay  on  Style  (p.  174)  which  depicts  the 
importance  of  the  travelling  philosopher  in 
filling  the  hungry  mind  of  his  generation : 
philosopher,  I  call  him,  not  as  being  one  who 
tries  to  fit  all  experience  into  the  four  corners 
of  a  system,  but  in  the  Greek  sense  of  one 
who  indulges  a  methodical  curiosity.  The  ac¬ 
quaintance  between  Sophocles  and  Herodotus 
is  attested  ;  and  were  it  not,  the  resemblances 
of  doctrine  and  diction  are  too  signal  to  be 
dismissed  as  accident. 

When  Aristophanes  recalls  regretfully  the 


XXX 


SOPHOCLES 


‘good  old  times,’  the  feature  he  most  accentuates 
is  the  highly  developed  union  of  religion  and 
patriotism  :  patriotism  exhibited  in  the  policy  of 
Cimon,  and  religion  displayed  in  the  brilliant 
multitude  of  festivals.  Aristophanes  hated 
nothing  in  Pericles  except  his  policy :  Pericles 
embodied  the  old  Attic  dignity  and  completeness 
which  departed  with  the  revolution  in  dress 
(change  from  the  flowing  Ionian  purple)  and  with 
the  campaign  waged  by  democrats  against  the 
equestrian,  gymnastic,  and  musical  departments 
of  education.1  The  breakers-up  of  Attic  re¬ 
ligion  took  two  lines — common  perhaps  to  all 
democratic  parties — one  attacked  the  super¬ 
natural,  another  sought  to  abolish  the  joviality. 
Each  undoes  the  universality  of  the  religion. 
The  moral,  emotional,  and  aesthetic  appeals 
are  harmonious  in  the  religion  that  Sophocles 
typifies. 

Concerning  Sophocles’  life  and  character  there 
was  plenty  of  ancient  material  to  hand,  some  of 
it  deriving  from  a  nearly  contemporary  source 
in  Ion  of  Chios.  Schneidewin  collects  the 
authorities  who  successively  passed  down  the 
rolling  snowball  of  anecdotal  reminiscence  and 
invention.  We  do  not  gather  much  that  is  of 
value  in  estimating  the  man.  On  two  points 
there  is  agreement  of  evidence :  the  sweetness 

1  Aristoph.  Eq.  Nubes ,  &c.,  and  Old  Oligarch. 


INTRODUCTION 


xxxi 


of  his  character,  and  the  voluptuousness  of  his 
nature.  “  Figurative  and  sensuous,  as  all  great 
thinkers  must  be,”  are  the  admirable  words  of 
De  Quincey;  and  the  vehement  and  disorderly 
passions  may  be  instanced  in  almost  all  the 
greatest  poets  from  Dante  to  Byron.  “  Serene 
in  life  and  after  life  serene,”  are  the  words  in 
Aristophanes  which  explain  his  freedom  from 
literary  jealousies.  But  if  we  apply  them  to  his 
passions  also,  we  must  think  of  a  strong  fire 
which  burns  clear  at  last. 

Asceticism  is  not  Attic  ;  if  Greek  at  all,  it 
is,  as  in  Pythagoras  and  Plato,  the  intellectual 
or  semi-political  reaction  in  a  decadence. 

Neither  is  acrimony  in  character  with  the 
Attic  of  Pericles’  day ;  it  is  for  disappointed 
men  and  futile  times :  outside  a  Sophoclean 
calmness  and  content,  there  was  room  for 
Olympian  passion  or  gravity  of  denunciation, 
and  for  hatred  rioting  in  the  furious  mirth  of 
comedy ;  but  the  Euripidean  carping  satire  and 
critical  disapprobation  is  not  the  Periclean 
spirit,  but  rebellion  against  it  in  the  interests 
of  coming  Pan-Hellenism  and  cosmopolitanism. 

II 

With  the  common  instinct  to  materialise  the 
ideal  conception  of  beauty  in  a  form,  every 
artist  must  unite  a  peculiar  sense  of  the  natural 


xxxii  SOPHOCLES 

beauty  inherent  in  a  particular  form.  The 
sculptor  must  be  specially  sensitive  to  the 
glory  of  marble,  even  in  the  block,  unhewn 
— as  Michelangiolo  used  to  go  and  wonder 
at  the  masses  in  the  quarries,  and  imagined 
the  figures  to  be  awakened  out  of  them.  A 
goldsmith  must  love  the  metal  as  such.  A 
poet  must  love  speech,  must  feel  the  glory  of 
words,  even  before  the  thought  they  are  to 
incarnate  is  consciously  present  in  his  brain. 
And  he  must  have  a  peculiar  perception 
of  the  beauty  and  power  of  some  given 
literary  genus — epic,  tragedy,  comedy,  lyric. 
He  must  regard  that  form  as  something 
capable  of  a  definite  perfection — to  which,  if 
not  already  attained,  he  must  advance  it,  or  in 
which,  if  already  subsistent,  he  must  exercise 
it :  no  artist  can  accept  progress  ei 9  onreipov. 
Beyond  a  certain  thing  organically  complete, 
which  he  sees  or  foresees,  there  lies  not 
progress,  but  dissolution ;  the  dissolution  is 
the  formation  beginning  of  something  else. 
Euripides  is  the  beginning  of  a  New  Tragedy, 
but  he  is  the  decadence  of  the  essentially 
Attic  Tragedy — not  from  defect  of  genius 
(it  may  be  maintained  that  he  is  greater  than 
Sophocles),  but  from  defect  of  harmony  be¬ 
tween  genius  and  the  contemporary  form. 
Such  perfect  form  is  always  a  combination 


INTRODUCTION 


XXXlll 


of  elements,  each  limited  in  proportion — a 
balance  of  tendencies.  So  soon  as  one  element, 
one  tendency,  acquires  predominant  force,  the 
compromise  is  at  an  end,  the  form  begins  to 
dissolve. 

Attic  Tragedy  was  such  a  compromise 
between  the  genera  which  we  classify  as 
Morality,  Opera,  Drama,  perhaps  Figure 
Dancing,  Mummery,  and  Tableaux — all 
shaped  with  a  religious  intention. 

The  evolution  of  Tragedy  is  a  most 
singular  piece  of  literary  history.  It  begins 
purely  choric  :  the  performance  of  the  goat- 
singers,  the  satyr-troupe  of  Dionysus.  It  is 
a  kco/jlos,  a  musical  revel ;  only  performed  on 
some  sort  of  primitive  stage  in  the  fields,  a 
religious  Te  Deum  sung  by  the  peasants  in  the 
enthusiasm  of  thankfulness  for  the  ingathering 
of  the  vintage.  This  choral  hymn  could  no 
more  resist  the  influence  of  the  Greek  genius 
for  a  story,  than  the  original  Hymn  had  re¬ 
fused  to  transform  itself  into  the  narrative 
Epic.  The  Greek  has  the  passion  for  a  story 
as  the  Oriental  has  it  :  myth,  fable,  saga  feed 
a  perpetual  craving  in  his  mind  for  a  story. 
Kinglake  believed  that  the  Tale  of  Tales, 
The  Thousand  and  One  Nights,  came  from 
Greek  invention.  Fertile  wits  soon  grew 
luxuriant  crops  of  legend  about  Dionysus. 


XXXIV 


SOPHOCLES 


And  any  episode  in  his  adventures  was  enough. 
The  leader  of  the  chorus  chanted  a  tale  of 
some  suffering  or  triumph  of  the  god  in  the 
undying  popular  jingle  metre  which  after¬ 
wards  was  the  vehicle  of  Roman  soldiers’  songs 
and  of  the  early  plebeian  Christian  hymns 
— the  trochaic  tetrameter.  The  eighteenth 
poem  of  Bacchylides,  the  Aegeus ,  is  a  missing 
link  recovered  in  the  chain  of  evolution  from 
choric  to  dramatic :  it  is  a  dramatic  lyric, 
dialogue  in  lyrics  between  king  and  chorus. 
It  shows  us  a  moment  before  the  parting  of 
the  ways  which  led  to  Dithyramb  and  to 
Drama.  When  the  serene  and  tender  Ionian 
discovered  the  metre  which  of  all  others 
most  approached  a  plain-measured  prose,  the 
iambic,  another  step  is  taken.  The  musical 
and  the  declaimed  parts  of  the  composition 
fall  more  distinctly  apart ;  it  is  a  fresh  en¬ 
croachment  of  the  growing  dramatic  element 
at  the  expense  of  the  original  choric.  In  the 
earliest  surviving  play  of  Aeschylus  the  chorus 
still  predominates.  But  later  either  he  divined 
or  Sophocles  taught  him  to  see  what  modifi¬ 
cation  was  necessary  to  make  the  obsolescent 
form  fit  the  newer  taste.  And  Aeschylus,  in  the 
Trilogy,  indulges  his  lyrical  genius  freely  indeed, 
but  as  an  outside  setting  to  a  core  of  action, 
within  which  the  amount  of  pure  chorus  ode 


INTRODUCTION 


XXXV 


(not  counting  lyrical  dialogue,  as  in  Choephori ) 
is  very  small.  This  core  of  action  stands  out 
so  distinctly,  that  we  may  regard  everything 
in  Agamemnon  before  the  king’s  entry,  every¬ 
thing  in  Choephori  before  Orestes’  appearance, 
everything  in  Eumenides  before  the  change  of 
scene  to  Athens,  as  falling  without  the  drama 
proper,  and  not  governed  by  the  Unities  which 
are  absolute  within  that  limit  :  in  fact  it  serves 
the  purpose  of  a  prologue.  It  is,  you  may  say, 
the  Old  Tragedy  carrying  the  New  in  its  arms, 
as  the  old  moon  carries  the  new. 

It  must  have  been  evident  early  in  the  fifth 
century  that  Tragedy,  being  from  its  origin  a 
thing  of  heterogeneous  elements,  must  find  its 
perfection  in  the  proportional  adjustment  of 
these  elements.  Sophocles  achieved  the  har-N 
mony.  He  had  to  strike  the  same  balance  that 
the  architects  and  sculptors  struck  between 
archaic  severity  and  too  facile  i roucikla,  between 
the  hieratic  convention  and  the  imitative  realism. 
His  work  was  to  prevent  the  consecrated  con¬ 
vention  from  being  glaringly  in  discord  with 
the  change  of  taste,  to  adjust  the  convention 
with  the  claims  of  the  probable  as  a  new  canon 
of  art.  He  would  say  to  himself,  “  Here  is 
Attic  Tragedy,  the  note  of  which  is  a  blending 
of  lyric  and  prose  dramatic  :  what  is  the  greatest 
excellence  of  which  this  literary  kind  admits  ? 


XXXVI 


SOPHOCLES 


How  can  I  reconcile  the  play  of  figures  in  high 
relief  with  figures  in  low  relief,  persons  fully 
individualised  and  a  chorus  of  hardly  character¬ 
ised  types  ?  What  is  the  form  into  which  (as 
Aristotle  was  to  say  later)  this  means  to  tends 
to  determine  ?  ” 

Euripides  could  not  solve  the  problem ;  he 
felt  himself  pinched  by  the  Attic  convention  ; 
he  worked  for  the  dissolution  of  the  form.  He 
could  not  dispense  with  the  chorus,  but  he 
could  leave  it  in  obedience  to  convention  with¬ 
out  any  palliation  of  its  superfluity  to  the  ideal 
towards  which  he  tended — the  pure  spoken 
drama  of  the  New  Comedy. 

Ill 

We  must  never  forget — De  Ouincey  reminds 
us  of  it — that  to  talk  of  a  Greek  Play  is  usually 
a  dangerous  misnomer.  We  invite  misconcep¬ 
tion  by  speaking  of  the  EccEsia  as  an  Athenian 
Parliament,  the  Strategoi  as  an  Athenian 
Ministry ;  and  just  so  if  by  a  Play  we  under¬ 
stand  all  that  the  word  has  come  to  denote  and 
connote  through  ages  of  usage  and  modification, 
then  we  are  describing  a  parent  form  in  terms 
of  a  single  developed  and  specialised  offspring. 
“Greek  opera”  would  be  incomplete,  but 
still  less  misleading,  as  a  description  of  the 


INTRODUCTION 


XXXVll 


spectacular  dramatic  composition  of  Music  and 
Poetry  which  Aeschylus,  Sophocles,  and  Euri¬ 
pides  wrote  and  scored  and  staged.  The 
narrative  genius  of  the  race  had  first  entered  to 
transmute  the  old  rustic  miracle-chorus  into 
an  inchoate  drama ;  sophistic  and  rhetoric  were 
next  to  pour  in  transforming  influences  so 
strong  that  after  a  brief,  perfect  handling  the 
mould  broke.  The  flood  of  speculation  was 
let  loose.  Curiosity  pried  into  religion,  morals, 
politics.  And  the  drama  to  live  in  favour 
must  make  itself  the  plastic  representation  of 
the  public  thought  and  interest.  The  Sophists 
were  professional  educators,  and  as  such  pro¬ 
fessional  psychologists :  on  the  old  gnome  of 
TNQ0I  CAUTON  had  been  reared  a  fabric 
of  character  analysis,  investigation  of  motives, 
calculations  how  the  human  mind  will  be 
affected  by  circumstances,  by  interaction  with 
fellow  minds;  into  what  types  the  human  mind 
may  be  classified.  Rhetoric,  strictly  the  rhetoric 
of  the  law  courts,  gives  perhaps  the  first  im¬ 
pulse  to  a  study  of  plot,  the  first  interest  in 
the  riddle,  “  How  will  a  given  situation  of 
persons  end  ?  ”  “  What  must  eventually  come 

out  concerning  x  to  account  for  this  and  that 
behaviour,  this  and  that  mysterious  happening?” 
I  cannot  put  it  better  than  in  the  words  of  the 
excellent  French  critic,  who  says  : — 


SOPHOCLES 


xxxv  iii 

“  L’epoque  a  laquelle  appartient  Thucydide 
est  celle  ou  P  etude  methodique  de  la  psycho- 
logle  se  forme  et  se  developpe.  Le  theitre 
attique,  a  partir  de  Sophocle,  vit  d’analyse 
psychologique.  La  rhetorique  judiciaire,  avec 
sa  perpetuelle  recherche  du  vraisemblable  (ra 
eiKora)  c’est-a-dire  notamment  des  motifs  qui 
avaient  pu  porter  un  prevenu  a  faire  ou  a  ne 
pas  faire  l’action  dont  il  etait  accuse  creusait 
sans  cesse  ces  problemes  de  Fame.  Les  sophistes 
proprement  dits  s’y  complaisaient.  Le  mythe 
d’Hercule  entre  le  vice  et  la  vertu,  raconte 
par  Prodicus,  etait  une  etude  psychologique ; 
l’eloge  d’Helene  attribue  a  Gorgias  est  rempli 
de  theses  psychologiques  et  morales  ;  les  frag¬ 
ments  d’ Antiphon  le  sophiste  sont  de  m£me 
nature.” — A.  Croiset,  Notice  sur  Thucydide. 

The  age  required  more  actuality,  to  put  it  in 
a  single  word  :  the  Aeschylean  tragedy  moved 
too  much  in  an  empyrean  of  its  own,  alien  in 
scale  and  diction.  There  are  words  of  Sopho¬ 
cles  chronicled  in  Plutarch  1  which  are  full  of 
information,  uncertain  though  the  text  is  : — 

'0  '2ocf)OK\r}<s  e'Aeye,  tov  Alct^vXov  8ta7T€7rat^d)S  oy/cov, 
eira  to  iriKpov  kcu  KaraTtyvov  rrjs  a vtov  KaTacrKevrjs, 
TpLTOv  rjbr]  to  ttJs  /xeTa/3aAAeu/  e?Sos‘  OTrep  ecrrlv 

r)0lK(QTa.TOV  KCU  /3t\Tl(TTOV. 

“  Sophocles  used  to  say  that  he  had  bantered 

1  Mor.,  p.  79  B. 


INTRODUCTION 


XXXIX 


away  (?)  the  pomp  of  Aeschylus ;  secondly, 
that  he  had  modified  (?)  the  harshness  and 
artificiality  of  his  arrangement  (?  or  staging) ; 
thirdly  and  lastly,  he  altered  the  type  of  dic¬ 
tion — which  in  him  (S.)  is  admirably  full  of 
character.” 

Now  here  compare  Boutmy  : 1 — 

“The  Greeks  were  the  first  to  discover  that 
beauty  is  the  most  determinate  thing  in  the 
world  ;  that  one  may  seek  it  in  vain,  after 
the  fashion  of  Oriental  art,  in  the  enormous, 
the  indefinite,  and  the  monstrous  (with  which 
our  aesthetic  depravity  tends  again  to  confound 
it) ;  it  is  made  of  order,  measure,  adjustment ; 
in  architecture  it  is  realised  under  three  con¬ 
ditions — unity  in  the  significance  or  function 
of  each  organ,  unity  in  the  end  proposed  by 
the  sum  of  the  work,  convergence  in  the  effect 
of  the  several  details.” 

We  may  judge  Sophocles  in  terms  of  this 
canon.  Once  at  least  he  rose  to  a  full  realisa-\j 
tion  of  it,  in  the  work  which  all  posterity  has 
hailed  as  his  masterpiece — CEdipus  Rex. 

His  first  great  change  was  to  reduce  the 
unit  of  composition  to  a  more  manageable 
scope,  substituting  the  single  play  for  the 
Trilogy.  It  is  a  testimony  to  the  extraordinary 
grandeur  of  Aeschylus’  genius  that  the  Trilogy 

1  Pref.xxxiv. 


xl 


SOPHOCLES 


should  be  the  form  in  which  it  naturally  moved 

and  found  its  free  play.  In  a  Trilogy  all  the 

effects  must  be  gigantic :  characters  in  huge 

outline  displaying  the  great  primary  passions 

and  beliefs  in  a  simple  sequence ;  some  great 

cardinal  event  in  mythology  or  history,  staged 

in  a  literary  form  built  up  of  blocks  and 

masses  of  poetry.  The  convention  stood 

far  aloof  from  reality  and  probability,  and 

Aeschylus  gloried  in  it.  His  improvements 

in  scenic  trappings  and  fittings  were  designed 

to  enhance  the  splendour  of  the  spectacle, 

to  make  the  ocular  appeal  suit  the  verbal 

appeal  of  his  magnificent  diction.  Sophocles 

developed  this  line  of  improvement  with  a 

different  purpose :  he  felt  that  poverty  of 

scenic  furniture  was  a  part  of  the  difficulty 

with  which  he  was  to  struggle — the  alienation 

of  tragedy  from  reality.  We  allow  for  the 

conventions  of  every  art,  but  the  art  perishes 

if  the  conventions  are  felt  to  be  ridiculous. 

The  “  This  lantern  doth  the  horned  moon  present  ” 

style  of  staging  was  one  stumbling-block  the 

more  to  the  ordinary  citizen  (whose  verdict 

he  sought  to  gain,  mind  you  :  no  writing  for 

a  succes  d'estime).  who  could  not  make  him- 

/  7 

self  at  home  in  the  older  Tragedy,  could  not 
raise  and  sustain  the  proper  emotions  to 
such  a  height  of  aloofness  from  reality  and 


INTRODUCTION 


xli 


probability.  Therefore  Sophocles  welcomed 
the  aid  to  illusion  which  he  found  in  the  newly- 
discovered  resource  of  perspective  scene-paint¬ 
ing  ;  he  accepted  the  Aeschylean  embellishments 
in  dress,  &c.,  modifying  them  with  a  view  to 
the  life-like  rather  than  the  pictorially  and 
plastically  splendid.  The  difference  between 
his  and  Euripides’  handling  of  these  means,  is 
that  Euripides  makes  straight  for  pure  realism, 
Sophocles  for  so  much  realism  as  will  reconcile 
his  public  to  the  convention  which  required 
a  tragedy  to  be  a  dignified  tableau,  without 
abandoning  the  convention.  He  reduced  the 
pomp,  then,  and  also  the  harsh  and  artificial 
elements  in  the  workmanship  of  Aeschylus ; 
but,  thirdly,  comes  the  most  important  of  all, 
“  he  altered  the  style  of  diction.” 

This  is  the  point  of  view  from  which  we 
must  make  our  fullest  survey  of  Sophocles : 
he  is  essentially  the  artist  in  words.  * 

I  have  alluded  to  the  sophist  influence. 
With  the  sophists  begins  the  study  of  style 
as  a  craft,  the  study  of  grammar  as  a  specified 
art.  Rhetoric  is  the  Greek  for  style.  The 
first  philologists  are  Gorgias  and  his  con¬ 
temporaries.  Self-conscious  use  of  language 
is  visible  in  the  solemn  puns  which  surprise 
us  in  Pindar  and  Aeschylus.  But  the  next 
generation  begins  to  play  with  language 


xlii 


SOPHOCLES 


analytically.  The  delight  in  words  for  their 
own  sake,  their  individual  sonorousness,  their 
balances  and  correspondences  in  formal  com¬ 
position,  all  the  self-conscious  craftsmanship  in 
language,  is  developed  by  the  early  school  of 
rhetorical  sophists.  The  Athenians  delighted 
in  the  full,  rounded,  leisurely  manner  of  the 
early  prose  ;  as  such  style  always  charms  till 
the  secret  of  it  is  discovered,  and  “  all  can 
raise  the  flower  now,  for  all  have  got  the 
seed.”  The  intellect  apprehends  the  meaning 
long  before  the  ear  has  done  with  the  pleasure 
of  taking  in  the  elaborate  volume  of  the  phrase. 
You  see  it  in  Gorgias,  in  Thucydides’  highly 
worked-up  passages,  rather  more  rudely  in 
the  Old  Oligarch,  and  nauseously  imitated  in 
Atticist  rhetoricians.  It  is  language  striking 
conscious  poses,  turning  round  to  admire  itself 
— like  the  Ovidian  versification,  nimium  amator 
ingenii  sui .  Presently  it  caused  a  reaction 
towards  the  dry  brevity  of  Lysias.  Sophocles 
is  much  too  fine  an  artist  to  be  content  with 
a  style  whose  beauties  can  be  formulated,  laid 
down  in  a  rule  for  reproduction  when  required. 
With  him,  as  with  Plato  (and  it  is  only  true  of 
the  very  greatest  stylists),  ars  est  celare  artem. 

It  has  been  shown  that  the  effects  in  the 
architecture  of  the  Parthenon  are  partly  derived 
from  following  a  very  subtle  rule  of  thumb 


INTRODUCTION 


xliii 


instead  of  exact  measurement,  slight  modifica¬ 
tions  of  the  mathematically  exact.  Herein  lay 
the  difference  between  Attic  architects  and 
Roman  imitators ;  herein  Ruskin  taught  the 
difference  between  genuine  Gothic  and  Sir 
Gilbert  Scott.  So  in  Sophocles  it  is  compara¬ 
tively  rare  to  find  a  sentence  formally  balanced 
in  exact  antithetical  style.  His  art  is  to  be 
never  posing,  and  yet  never  slipshod  ;  never  on 
parade,  yet  always  keeping  a  natural  ease  of 
carriage.  He  differs  from  Aeschylus  and  from 
Euripides  in  his  handling  of  iambic  metre. 
And  the  divergence  between  his  earliest  and  his 
latest  work  is  notably  small.  It  was  many 
years  before  he  realised  the  ideal  of  tragedy 
which  he  had  set  up  within  himself.  CEdipus 
up  at  Colonos  is  a  work  of  his  old  age.  But 
taking  any  ordinary  base  of  calculation — in¬ 
cidence  of  caesura ,  position  of  long  words  in 
the  line — there  is  the  closest  similarity  between 
Ajax  zn&CEdipus  Coloneus, though  written  perhaps 
at  some  forty  years’  interval.  The  sweetness, 
smoothness,  and  ease  are  the  same.  But  there 
are  differences.  In  his  earliest  work  he  is  not 
free  from  the  Aeschylean  tendency  to  make  the 
individual  line  a  unit  in  construction  :  which 
contributes  to  the  alienation  of  the  dramatic 
diction  from  the  common  spoken  diction. 
Sophocles  does  not  set  up  ranges  of  colossal 


xliv 


SOPHOCLES 


statues  in  word,  but  must  always  be  adjusting 
the  figure  to  its  precise  value  in  the  group, 
and  the  group  to  its  function  in  the  edifice. 
From  this  splendid  Aeschylean  intemperance 
he  gradually  frees  himself,  cautiously  and 
with  extreme  tact  drawing  the  poetical  style 
nearer  the  conversational,  and  so  assisting  in 
the  illusion  of  reality.  The  most  salient  ex¬ 
ample  is  the  use  of  elision  at  the  end  of  the 
sixth  foot,  which  carries  the  line  into  the  next 
without  pause  ( CEdipus  Rex ,  29,  and  examples 
there  cited).  This  was  known  as  eJSos  2 o(po - 
icXeiov.1  But  without  this  metrical  licence  you 
can  see  in  CEdipus  Cnloneus ,  495,  577,  737, 
1 3 1 1 ,  the  way  in  which  he  adapts  his  line  to  be 
spoken  and  not  declaimed.  To  be  classed  with 
this  is  his  change  of  vocabulary:  in  Ajax  (partly 
because  the  Epic  subject  invited  it)  the  diction 
is  coloured  with  Epic  words  and  phrases ;  in 
CEdipus  Rex  it  approximates  closely  to  the  voca¬ 
bulary  of  Antiphon  in  prose.  He  makes  no 
revolution  like  Euripides  with  the  introduction 

1  “One  source  of  feebleness  in  this  passage,  and  it  is  one  of 
frequent  occurrence  in  all  Lord  Byron’s  plays,  is  his  practice  of 
ending  his  lines  with  insignificant  monosyllables.  Of,  to,  and,  till, 
hd,  front,  all  concur  in  the  course  of  a  very  few  pages.  ...  A 
more  inharmonious  system  of  versification,  or  one  more  necessarily 
tending  to  weight  and  feebleness,  could  hardly  have  been  in¬ 
vented.”— Heber  (on  Marino  Faliero,  Act  v.  sc.  i).  Doubtless 
there  were  episcopally  minded  critics  who  rebuked  Sophocles  in 
like  terms  ! 


INTRODUCTION 


xlv 


of  those  undignified  diminutives  which  shocked 
an  old-fashioned  ear  like  slang.  He  is 
never  prosaic,  in  the  bad  sense ;  he  moves 
normally  in  the  diction  common  to  poetry  and 
prose — like  Coleridge,  who  refused  to  differen¬ 
tiate  the  two  styles.  And  in  chorus,  Sophocles, 
and  Sophocles  alone,  achieved  the  seemingly 
impossible  compromise  of  making  the  odes  rich 
with  poetry  and  at  the  same  time  perfectly 
germane  to  the  play.  Euripides  failed  doubly 
in  the  attempt ;  his  chorus  degenerates  in 
function  into  mere  musical  interlude,  and 
sometimes  in  essence  under  the  wrappings  of 
sonorous  Doric  glosses  the  thought  is  a  mere 
commonplace — for  example,  the  washerwomen 
in  the  first  ode  of  Hippolytus.  Sophocles’ 
equality  of  style  was  gained  by  taking  irv 
much  from  pure  common  speech  ;  Euripides’ 
cynicism  led  him  into  wanton  bathos,  the 
more  trenchantly  seen  by  contrast  with  his 
abuse  of  the  ultra-poetic  jargon. 

IV 

My  design  was  to  draw  some  sort  of  sketch 
of  the  times,  with  their  thought  and  character, 
their  form  of  art,  their  attitude  toward  litera¬ 
ture  and  drama ;  and  then  to  turn  round  and 
show  Sophocles  as  representative  at  each  point. 


xlvi 


SOPHOCLES 


But  it  has  been  hard  to  outline  the  position  of 
language  and  drama  as  he  found  it  except  by 
comparison  with  the  position  as  he  left  them ; 
and  so  we  find  ourselves  already  arrived  at  the 
second  part  of  the  business  without  sensible 
transition. 

My  purpose  in  what  remains  is  twofold :  to 
show  Sophocles  typifying  the  characteristics  we 
have  detected  in  the  Periclean  way  of  thinking; 
and,  secondly,  to  follow  out  the  close  corre¬ 
spondence  between  thought  and  manner — that 
is,  the  real  harmony  in  virtue  of  which  we  rank 
him  as  the  supremely  Attic  craftsman  in  his 
own  art. 

First  his  religious  opinions. 

It  is  the  essence  of  Greek  religion  that  it  is 
universal:  not  a  cloud  sitting  over  one  depart¬ 
ment  of  the  mind,  but  an  atmosphere  into 
which  the  summits  of  all  the  various  activities 
rise.  They  are  sensible  of  deity  every¬ 
where. 

ovoev  TOVTOJV  OTL  [XT]  Zj€V$.l 

The  simple,  honest  Teukros  says,2 

iyu)  fJL€V  OVV  Kdl  TdVTd  Kdl  Td  TTdVT  del 
(^dffKOLfX  dV  dvOpUKOLCTL  fl^^dVdV  $€OVS. 

Sophoclean  though  not  Sophocles;  the 

2  Aj.y  1037. 


]  Track.,  1278. 


INTRODUCTION 


xlvii 


Scholiast  Didymus  remarks,  eio-1  yap  rives  erepofio- 
£ ovvres ,  to  wit,  Euripides. 

Philoctetes  in  the  bitterness  of  his  spirit  rails 
against  Providence:1  Neoptolemus  answers  with 
a  justification  of  the  ways  of  God  to  man.2  The 
root  and  base  of  all  religion  is  humility,  the 
perception  of  human  futility,  of  the  inadequacy 
of  human  reasoning  to  solve  or  to  satisfy 
everywhere.  Athena  herself  dictates  the  moral 
to  the  hero  whom  Sophocles  loved,3  as  all  Greece 
loved  him,  for  his  virtues  and  his  vices,  alike 
characteristically  Greek — Odysseus.  See  also 
the  Scholiast  on  Aj.  780, 

81  a  TravTiov  81  8i8dcrK€ i  on  Kparel  twv  dvOpiariViov  i) 
elpappevrj  Kal  yvdivcu  pe v  to,  kcropev a  8la  rrjs  pavn Krjs 
ecrnv  ov  prjv  koli  (f>v\d£acr6ou. 

So  again  in — 

€Ti  peyas  ovpav<8  4 
Zevs,  &c. 

And  not  only  the  existence  of  divine  law,  but 
its  sublimity  ;  compare  the  peyiara  vopipa 5  with 
the  prophet-like  strain  of  the  Chorus — 

€t  poi  crvve'ir)  (faepovTi.6 

Herodotus  had  the  same  perception  (see  i.  5  ; 
i.  9 1  ;  and  up  and  down  his  history).  It  takes 
various  forms  :  now  it  is  the  orbis  quidam  rerum 

1  Phil..  446.  2  Phil..  1315.  3  Aj.*  1 19-133. 

4  El.,  174.  5  El. ,  1094.  6  0.  T.,  863. 


xlviii 


SOPHOCLES 


which  was  Tacitus’  reading  of  the  world  (i. 
207);  now  the  famous  sentence  which  displeased 
Plutarch — 

c fyOovepov  kou  rap a^cuSes  to  Qclov.1 

This  shapes  itself  to  Sophocles  as  an  irony  in 
things  2 — 

roi>s  evycvtLs  yap  KayaOovs,  c5  7rat, 

"A py]s  kvaipeiv,  &C. 

which  again  reminds  us  of  Tacitus — 

Breves  et  infaustos  populi  Romani  a  mores. 

And  yet  such  is  his  completeness  of  soul  that 
along  with  this  deep  sense  of  human  futility 
he  delights  to  think  of  the  power  and  ver¬ 
satility  of  man :  see  the  famous  chorus  in 

Antigone .3 

The  latter  part  of  the  Scholiast  above  quoted 
has  special  importance.4  Sophocles’  view  of 
/j.dvTi9  and  /xavriKYj  is  of  particular  interest. 
The  supernatural  is  always  favourable  ground 
for  rogues  and  impostors ;  and  facility  of 
imposture  is  curiously  often  taken  as  evidence 
against  probability  of  truth.  So  in  the  fifth  cen¬ 
tury.  The  vulgar  were  freely  taken  in  by  quack- 
prophets  and  oracle-mongers :  take  the  Knights 
for  witness.  And  the  cheap  rationalist  held 

1  i.  32.  2  Phil.,  436,  and  Fr.,  652. 

3  Ant.,  332.  4  Schol.  Aj.y  780. 


INTRODUCTION 


xlix 


the  existence  or  abundance  of  quacks  to  prove 
the  falsity  of  all  prediction ;  as  if  one  should 
deny  the  science  of  medicine  because  of  the 
blatant,  ubiquitous,  quack  Pill. 

We  can  see  evidence  up  and  down  Herodotus 
and  Thucydides  that  upon  this  question  of 
fxavTLKr]  was  concentrated  the  chief  debate 
concerning  the  supernatural.  Prophets  in 
Euripides  share  in  the  hatred  with  which  he 
pursues  the  class  of  heralds  and  the  female 
sex.  What  is  Sophocles’  view  ?  He  chooses 
two  characters  in  his  plays  for  mouthpieces  of 
the  unbelieving  opinion. 

CEdipus  stands  for  the  pride  of  human 
wit  in  CEdipus  Rex.  He  has  guessed  the 
riddle  of  the  Sphinx,  he  is  confident  he  can 


detect  the  mysterious  cause 


Thebes :  Teiresias  is  discredited,  because  the 
scientific  ingenuity  of  the  King  reads  political 
intrigue  between  the  lines  of  his  prophecy. 
Even  the  chorus  “  are  infected  with  contempt 

for  tJLCLVTLKY)  ”  — 


“  If  I  may  prophesy  in  virtue  of  intelligence, 
for  that  is  the  only  /xarn/07.” 


And  his  own  words 1  are,  “  Why  should 


1  O.  T.,  964. 

d 


I 


SOPHOCLES 


any  one  regard  the  hearth  of  Pythian  divina¬ 
tion,  or  the  birds  that  scream  overhead  ?  ” — 
but  yet  there  is  a  secret  uneasiness  in  the 
corners  of  his  conscience :  a  man  who  has 
come  through  such  extraordinary  fortunes  can¬ 
not  be  free  from  superstition.  His  vaunted 
ingenuity  suggests  that  even  the  apparent 
failure  of  the  prophecy  may  be  its  fulfilment 
(969).  There  it  is  that  Jocasta  plays  Eve  to 
his  Adam ;  she  leads  him  into  downright 
contempt :  “  The  man  who  takes  no  account 
of  these  things  carries  his  life  most  easily.”  1 
Within  a  few  lines  the  revelation  begins  which 
is  to  confound  the  conceit  of  human  self- 
sufficiency  in  horror.  The  moral  of  CEdipus 
is  the  downfall  of  vfipis — not  the  moral  or 
political  vftpis,  but  the  intellectual.  CEdipus 
a  blind  beggar,  and  Jocasta  swinging  from  the 
beam  of  her  bedchamber,  are  the  testimony  to 
the  truth  of  fxavriKy /. 

Creon  is  made  to  point  the  same  moral  in 
Antigone.  He  exemplifies  not  only  the  moral 
vppi<s  (like  Agamemnon  and  Menelaus  in  Ajax), 
which  flouts  the  sacred  claims  of  burial,  but  the 
intellectual,  which  scoffs  at  the  supernatural.2 
Look  at  the  ironical  repetition  of  the  words 
/mains,  lAavracov,  in  Creon’s  dialogue  with 
Teiresias.  It  is  the  same  story;  the  ‘practical 
1  O.  T.,  982.  2  Ant.,  1053,  1055. 


INTRODUCTION 


li 


mind  ’  of  Creon  reads  imposture  and  intrigue 
between  the  lines  of  Teiresias’  warnings.  The 
death  of  wife  and  son  teaches  him  the 
lesson. 

Sophocles  has  strongly  developed  the  humility 
which  is  the  bottom  of  religion — the  proud 
humility ;  in  Aeschylus  it  is  rather  a  dignified 
fear — 

ra  [xev  SiSaKTa  [xav6av(o,  xa  8’  evperd 
£rjru)f  t a  8’  erepa  irapd  Oeois  yTrjcrdpLrjv — 1 

a  justification,  says  Plutarch,  who  quotes  the 
words  from  a  lost  play,  of  evfiovXla — precisely 
the  virtue  of  which  Teiresias  deplores  the  lack 
in  Creon ;  and  Creon  does  not  understand  his 
evfiovXla  as  a  religious  virtue,  but  takes  him 
to  allege  want  of  (ppowjcrt? ,  ‘  common  sense.’ 
opOoftovXla  is  the  attribute  of  Themis,  which 
contrasts  with  her  ahrvi n ra??,  Prometheus, 
in  Aeschylus. 

Sophocles  has  a  more  reasoned  mysticism 
in  his  religion  than  Aeschylus,  less  purely 
symbolic.  His  mind  is  of  the  credo  quia 
impossibile  order,  as  far  as  is  possible  for  a 
Greek  to  be.  His  dogmatism  infuriated  the 
tolerant  indifferentism  of  Plutarch  in  the 
famous  fragment 2  ( Extra  Ecclesiam  nulla  Salus ) 
about  the  Sacraments  of  Eleusis,  “  Thrice  blessed 
are  they  among  men  who  see  these  mysteries 
•  1  Fr.,  731.  z  Fr.,  753. 


lii 


SOPHOCLES 


before  they  enter  into  Death :  they  alone  have 
a  life  beyond,  but  for  all  others  there  is  misery 
beyond.”  He  held  a  priesthood  himself,  and 
was  thought  to  be  favoured  with  supernatural 
intercourse  by  Asclepius. 

In  their  whole  view  of  /mavriKt]  and  the  super¬ 
natural  the  Sophists  were  of  two  schools : 
Socrates  stood  apart  from  the  intellectuals  who 
denied  all  truth  in  this  sphere,  and  called  them 
madmen — or  rather  possessed ;  Saijuovav  is  the 
word.  In  this  matter  his  opinions,  as  recorded 
in  the  first  chapter  of  the  Memorabilia ,  are  nearly 
in  agreement  with  Sophocles.  I  am  not  sure 
he  would  not  have  agreed  with  Sophocles  in 
accepting  a  supernatural  rather  than  an  utili¬ 
tarian  sanction  for  the  moral  law.  The  great 
contrast  between  Sophocles  and  Euripides  here 
is  that  Sophocles’  whole  theory  is  consistent, 
given  a  dogmatic  premiss ;  Euripides  halts 
between  two  opinions — the  poet  is  fighting 
with  the  rationalist ;  he  has  no  creed  to  satisfy 
his  moral  and  his  aesthetic  sense. 

Sophocles’  doctrine1  of  intercessory  prayer 
would  be  foolishness  to  Euripides  :  it  stands  on 
the  same  humility  as  fundamental  in  religion. 
He  holds  that  by  virtue  of  charity  one  soul  can 
worship  for  many  :  it  would  be  a  form  of  vftpis, 
intellectual  self-conceit,  to  exclude  the  efficacy 

1  o.  c.,  497. 


INTRODUCTION 


liii 


of  vicarious  intercession,  evvov ?  is  Charity , 

here  and  where  he  asserts 1 — 

“  A  charitable  and  righteous-minded  soul 
Is  more  inventive  than  the  subtlest  wits.” 

Under  his  mysticism  we  must  consider  also 
the  superstitious  fascination  which  burial,  the 
ceremonies  of  burial,  exercised  over  him.  We 
judge  him  of  course  by  about  a  twentieth  part 
of  his  work — a  caution  necessary  to  be  remem¬ 
bered  in  all  these  attempted  intuitions  of  his 
thought — but  it  is  notable  that  in  three  out  of 
the  seven  plays  burial  is  a  leading  motive — 
Antigone  and  CEdipus  Coloneus  and  Ajax,  and 
present  also  in  a  fourth,  Electra.  We  think  of 
the  translation  of  Theseus’  bones  from  Scyros 
by  Cimon,  and  of  the  bones  of  Orestes  giving 
victory  to  Sparta  against  Tegea.2  But  the 
grave  of  CEdipus  is  to  be  a  pledge  of  victory  to 
Athens — not  that  he  is  an  Attic  hero.  Upon 
some  village  legend  about  CEdipus’  tomb 
Sophocles  seems  to  have  fitted  the  conception 
that  a  man  guilty  of  most  horrible  crimes  (not 
guilty  in  intention,  but  not  guiltless  since  hisi 
pride  and  self-sufficiency  were  the  means  by 
which  Fate  overtook  him),  but  repentant  and 
pardoned  by  Heaven,  becomes  sanctified.  The 
Euripidean  School  would  have  advocated  the 

i  Fr.,  98.  2  Her.,  i.  68. 


liv 


SOPHOCLES 


claims  of  the  ‘  ninety  and  nine  just  persons  ’ — 
and  blasphemed  the  vengeful  gods.  So  Hippo- 
lytus.  But  in  CEdipus  there  is  no  blaspheming 
and  reproaching. 

’A-toAAojv  raS’  ?}v  'AttoXXc ov, 

he  cries  at  the  end  of  CEdipus  Rex ,  but  there  is 
no 

TOiOVTO)  6eo) 

L  L 

tls  av  TvpoaevypiT  ; 

he  is  humble.  And  in  CEdipus  Coloneus  he 
appears  as  a  person  sacred  by  the  protection  of 
Apollo.  Aeschylus  had  softened  the  doctrine 
of  the  implacability  of  Gods  in  the  reconcilia¬ 
tion  of  Prometheus  Luomenos ;  but  in  a  wholly 
different  sense.  There  it  is  the  suzerainty  of 
Destiny  over  Zeus  and  Prometheus  which 
reconciles.  Here  it  is  CEdipus  repenting, 
Apollo  forgiving ;  yet  repenting  is  hardly  the 
right  word  for  CEdipus,  who  firmly  maintains 
that  he  has  done  no  wilful  wrong.  He  bows  to 
the  law  ;  he  is  as  perfect  a  type  of  the  abnega¬ 
tion  of  spiritual  pride  as  Paganism  admits ;  and 
holiness  attaches  to  him,  stained  as  he  is,  and 
offending  in  his  physical  ghastliness  against  the 
Greek  adoration  of  beauty  everywhere,  mani¬ 
fested  whether  in  form  or  in  spirit — as  the 
selected  martyr  to  the  divine  law. 

If  Sophocles  is  permeated  with  the  sweet 


INTRODUCTION 


lv 


reasonableness  which  M.  Arnold  makes  the 
essence  of  Atticism,  it  comes  up  in  his  style  as 
the  ‘  sweetness  and  light  ’  which  M.  Arnold 
borrowed  from  Swift  to  express  the  quality  of 
Hellenism.  He  has  in  fulness  the  temper  for 
want  of  which  men  kill  themselves  or  forswear 
thinking  for  fear  of  its  consequences ;  the 
temper  which  digests  contradictions  and  har¬ 
monises  all  things.  This  temper  takes  shape 
in  his  favourite  virtues. 

evpovXla  we  have  seen  is  the  text  of  Antigone } 
to  (jypoveiv  Trjs  evSai/jLovlag  7rpcorov  (the  same 
c ppoveiv — ‘to  have  the  light’  that  Teiresias 
speaks  of  in  CEdipus  Rex).  evf3ov\la  is  a  special 
determination  of  it ;  the  quality  which  recon¬ 
ciles  the  conflict  of  State  right  and  individual 
right,  of  duty  to  human  law  and  duty  to 
divine ;  or,  if  you  prefer,  which  prevents  their 
collisions.  It  is  like  the  later  conception  of 
eiTLeiKela  ;  our  own  equivalent,  the  constitutional 
feeling  which  supplements  the  deficiencies  of 
law  and  curtails  its  extravagances. 

Tolerance  is  the  doctrine  eloquently  urged  by 
Haemon  in  Antigone ,  especially  in  the  passage  : — 

“  Wear  not  within  yourself  one  single  mood, 

One  rule  and  one  alone  of  rectitude.”  2 

To  the  same  tune  are  the  praises  of  Patience 
inculcated  by  the  Trachinian  women,  with  the 
1  Ant.,  1350.  2  Ant.,  705  and  723. 


lvi 


SOPHOCLES 


reflection  upon  that  mutability  of  things  which 
Sophocles  repeatedly  handled  with  fresh  graces.1 
We  have  them  again  in  the  mouth  of  Neopto- 
lemus;2  and  akin  also  is  the  patient  faith  in 
Providence  spoken  by  CEdipus.3  These  are 
all  virtues  which  suit  well  with  our  conception 
of  Sophocles’  temper  as  a  mellow  compound  of 
tenderness  and  right  reason.  For  this  note  of 
tenderness  or  pitifulness  there  are  evidences  in 
plenty  :  take  Deianira  for  one  example.4 

Sophocles  does  not  call  life  a  disease,  but  he 
knows  the  qualities  which  make  a  good  patient. 
Let  us  return  for  a  moment  to  the  special 
application  of  evf3ov\[a  as  the  virtue  which 
harmonises  the  relations  of  State  and  Individual. 
We  have  seen  that  the  main  thought  which  we 
may  analyse  out  of  Antigone  is  this  conflict 
between  rights  of  Law  and  the  rights  of  indi¬ 
vidual  Conscience.  The  problem — to  use  our 
mean  analytic  word  :  to  Sophocles  it  is  not  as  a 
problem  to  be  solved,  but  a  marvel  among 
marvels  to  be  recreated  in  a  form  of  art — the 
problem,  however,  seems  to  have  fascinated  his 
attention.  Agamemnon,  in  Ajax,  formulates 
State  right  in  naked  brutality  :  rov  tol  rvpavvov 
evaefielv  ov  paSiovj  “A  king  cannot  well  be  a 
saint,”  and  shortly  after  he  states  the  duty  of 

1  Track.,  125  ;  Aj 666.  2  Phil.,  192. 

3  O.  C .,  277  seq.  4  Track ,  296  and  436.  5  Ai,  1350. 


INTRODUCTION 


lvii 


passive  obedience.1  In  this  play,  comparatively 
crude  in  workmanship  as  it  is,  Agamemnon  is  a 
crude  type  of  what  the  Athenian  detested  in 
tyranny.  The  Creon  of  Antigone  is  no  such 
stage  villain :  the  beauty  of  the  tragedy  partly 
depends  upon  this,  that  he  is  not  a  bad  man  nor 
a  bad  king,  only  wanting  in  the  saving  grace  of 
ev(3ov\ia.  Here  is  his  doctrine  summarised : — 

“  You  cannot  understand  a  man’s  heart  and 
temper  and  wit,2  until  it  be  proved  by  familiarity 
with  law  and  authority.  A  king  must  grasp 
the  best  counsel ;  if  he  keep  silence  from  fear 
of  any  man,  he  is  a  rogue  :  nothing  so  near  and 
dear  that  it  may  come  between  him  and  public 
duty.”  And  public  duty  is  the  ground  of  dis¬ 
tinction  drawn  between  the  funeral  honours 
rendered  to  Eteocles  and  the  casting-out  of 
Polyneices. 

Creon  says  to  Antigone,  “Are  you  not 
ashamed  to  differ  from  public  opinion  ?  ”3  Her 
appeal  to  the  aypairra  KacrcpaXrj  vo^u^a  4  is  mere 
vftpL?  to  Creon  ;  as  though  one  should  plead  con¬ 
science  to  an  attorney.  Law  is  absolute,  authority 
infallible:  that  is  his  position  clearly  laid  down:5 

“  What  man  the  State  appoints  thou  shalt  obey 
E’en  in  the  least,  be’t  right  or  t’other  way.” 

It  is  only  patriotism  run  mad  by  contamination 

1  At.,  1352.  3  Ant.,  180.  3  Ant.,  510. 

4  Ant.,  454.  5  Ant.,  665. 


lviii 


SOPHOCLES 


with  a  narrower  egoism :  the  patriot  is  part 
of  Creon’s  character  in  all  three  plays,1  but  we 
must  divest  the  word  of  every  romantic  asso¬ 
ciation,  and  clothe  it  in  the  significances  which 
the  term  patriot  carries  when  applied  by  a  party 
newspaper  to  a  party  leader. 

Neoptolemus  says — 2 

7 roAis  yap  earn  Traca  rQ>v  rjyovpievuiv 
(rrparos  re  cvpiras. 

It  is  the  fault  of  their  governments  when 
men  go  wrong.  Yet  later  he  yields  : — 

ru>v  yap  ev  reXei  kXvciv 
to  r  evSi kov  /xe  kou  to  crvp.fyepov  iroei .3 

Right  and  expediency  combine  to  sanction 
obedience  to  authority,  and  Neoptolemus  is 
Sophocles’  incarnation  of  the  chivalrous  spirit 
in  contrast  with  the  politic. 

Fr.  6 1 8  is  against  demagogues  who  make 
right  and  sober-sense  to  be  trampled  under  foot;4 
Fr.  194  argues  for  freedom  of  speech. 

Even  dismissing  the  anecdotes  related  of 
Sophocles  which  allege  his  participation  in 
politics,  we  may  judge  that  the  Periclean 
system — democracy  under  a  very  powerful 
president — satisfied  him  as  likeliest  to  keep  the 
human  and  divine  code,  the  general  and  the 

1  0.  c.,  759.  2  Phil.,  385. 

8  Phil,  926.  4  Fr.,  618. 


INTRODUCTION 


lix 


individual  charter  of  right  from  collision ; 
which  only  a  strong  element  of  personality  in 
government  will  achieve.  He  was  keenly  alive 
to  the  dangers  of  consecrating  administrative 
right — much  in  the  way  that  M.  Arnold  re¬ 
proaches  our  race  for  idolising  machinery  to 
the  neglect  of  the  spirit — 


But  he  feared  the  excesses  of  the  later  demo¬ 
cracy  more.  There  is  nothing  improbable  in 
the  story  that  he  approved  the  reaction  of  the 
CCCC  as  the  least  of  possible  evils :  it  was  a 
revolution  made  by  thinking  men.  And  he 
says  in  the  speech  of  Creon  before  cited,  avapyla? 
yap  juLei^ov  ovk  eanv  KaKov  :2  the  eloquent  heat  of 
the  passage  seems  to  show  that  it  is  his  own 
thought,  though  spoken  by  Creon. 

But  his  nature  was  fundamentally  unpolitical, 
too  fine  for  politics,  too  deeply  impregnated 
with  the  sense  of  human  futility  to  take  politics 
seriously  at  all  times.  The  sum  of  his  political 
philosophy  is — 


and 


The  divine  law  is  always  more  really  present 


2  Ant.,  668. 
4  Fr.,  840. 


lx 


SOPHOCLES 


to  his  consciousness  than  any  realities,  which 
gives  the  logical  thoroughness  to  his  system 
that  is  sometimes  called  Jesuitical.  See  his 
notable  assertion  of  the  doctrine  that  the  end 
justifies  the  means  : — 

“  Alone  by  God’s  preferment  man  is  wise: 

A  man  must  walk,  keeping  on  God  his  eyes, 

The  road  he’s  bid,  tho’  Justice  be  transgress’d  : 
Nothing  is  vile  of  all  the  Gods  suggest.”  1 

M.  Arnold’s  phrase  is  perfectly  true :  that 
he  “saw  life  whole.”  His  serenity  feels  equally 
the  vanity  of  human  wishes  and  human  fears2 
{Fr.,  62).  Few  more  pessimistic  things  have 
ever  been  said  than — 

ouo€F  yap  aAyos  otov  rj  7roAAr]  £orj. 

— Fr .,  509. 

And  yet  he  is  not  a  pessimist.  Only  the 
almost  sentimental  turn  for  melancholy  which 
marks  the  Ionian  is  strong  in  him,  as  in  all 
natures  which  are  hyperaesthetic  both  of  pains 
and  pleasures. 

In  no  respect  is  he  more  purely  a  Greek  than 
this :  his  morality  is  imaginative.  Morality 
inculcated  apart  from  religion  is  simply  un¬ 
meaning  to  such  minds  ;  for  them  there  are 
the  two  alternatives  of  piety  rendered  with 

1  Fr.,  227. 

2  A/.,  125;  O.  C.,  1211  ;  Fr.,  12;  Fr.,  103;  Fr.,  860. 


INTRODUCTION 


lxi 


enthusiasm  as  service  to  a  personal  deity  re¬ 
garded  with  imaginative  love  and  awe — or  pure 
hedonism.  There  is  no  reason  to  doubt  the 
stories  which  report  sensuousness  of  Sophocles: 


we  expect  it  of  one  so  richly  gifted  with  the 


power  of  visualising,  one  who  thinks  in  images.' 
The  words  related  by  old  Cephalus  in  the 
opening  of  the  Republic ,  wcnrep  aypiov  km  \vt- 
tcovtci  Seo-TroTijv,  are  in  the  same  key  with  Dante’s 
confession  and  Michelangiolo  :  we  could  match 
them  in  “The  expense  of  spirit  in  a  waste  of 
shame.” 

In  the  splendid  fragment — 


/ 


Secvbv  TO  IIet,#OUS  TTp6(T(x)7rOV — 1 


I  suspect  it  is  Peitho,  the  handmaid  of  Aphro¬ 
dite.  The  fragment  from  Lovers  of  Achilles  is 
very  noteworthy : — 


“  Sickness  of  love’s  a  mischief  fugitive  : 

No  bad  comparison  is  this  I’ll  give — 

Boys  when  the  heavens  are  frosty,  in  a  trice 
Will  fill  their  hands  with  lumps  of  dripping  ice, 

And  first  ’tis  all  delight  and  wonder,  then 
The  lump  no  more  will  be  let  go  again, 

Nor  yet  be  pretty  treasure  to  retain. 

E’en  so  with  lovers :  oft  the  one  desire 
Shall  them  to  do  and  not  to  do  require.”  2 

In  another  fragment  it  is  the  Srjy/i*  epcoros ; 3 


1  Fr.f  780. 


2  Fr.y  154. 


8  Fr.,  757. 


Ixii  SOPHOCLES 

in  the  same  context  falls  to  be  considered  the 
longer  passage : — 

a>  7rou8es  yj  tol  Ku7 rpls  ov  K.V7rpl<$  fxovov d 

He  is  extremely  sensitive  to  horrors  which 
shock  the  imagination  :  his  mastery  of  language 
enables  him  to  use  such  delicacy  of  euphemism 
in  CE dipus  Rex  and  CE dipus  Coloneus  that  his 
subject  is  never  repulsive.  Shelley  matches 
him  in  the  Cenci.  Ford’s  handling  in  'Tis 
pity ,  &c.,  is  deliberately  different,  as  his  plot 
requires. 

And  yet  on  occasion  he  was  no  Puritan  to 
shirk  calling  a  spade  a  spade  ( Fr .,  441);  the 
same  undignified  domestic  object  plays  a  part 
in  a  fragment  of  the  ’A yaloov  SAXo^o?.2  Ovid 
speaks  of  his  in  obscaenos  deflexa  tragoedia 
risusd 

He  kept  his  idealism  for  ideal  spheres.  He 
did  not  dislike  the  national  aptitude  for  roguery 
and  cunning  ;  his  partiality  for  the  hero  of 
ingenuity — Odysseus,  whom  his  enemies  called 
a  bastard  of  Sisyphus — is  evident.  In  Ajax  it 
is  Odysseus  who  represents  ev/3ov\ia  ;  in  Philoc- 
tetes  he  is  contrasted,  but  not  unkindly,  with 
the  chivalrous  temper  of  Neoptolemus  ;  the 
sentiment  in  Phil.  97  would  come  home  to  every 
Greek  hearer  as  national.  So,  too,  the  argument 

1  Fr.,  856.  2  Fr.,  141.  3  Trist.  ii.,  409. 


INTRODUCTION 


lxiii 


of  Orestes,  Sokco  /nev  ovSev  prjpia  orvv  KepSei  kcikov,1 
and  the  exclamation — 

ovSev  yap  avQpunroiciv  olov  a pyvpos  2 
KaKov  vopucrfi  e/3Xa<jT€ , 

is  put  into  the  unsympathetic  mouth  of  the 
doctrinaire  Creon. 

Fr.  25  is  an  anticipation  of  virtus  laudatur 
et  alget ,  but  not  satirically  spoken — 

cru  8’  Oteros  cocnrep  ol  <ro(f)ol  ra  pXv 
SiKal  e7ra [vet,  rov  8e  icepSaiveiv  £Xovi 

which  Athenaeus  deprecates  as  7 eiprjjuevov. 
The  praises  of  money  are  the  theme  also  of  ra 
Xjjrj/jLaT  dvOpwTroLcri ,3  &c.  Fr.  325  gives  a  casuist 
defence  of  justifiable  untruth:  so  does  327. 
The  didactic  Plutarch  quotes  and  disapproves 
the  line — 

to  KepSos  rj8v  Kav  airo  \J/ev8u)V  irjA 

There  are  several  recorded  instances,  and  doubt¬ 
less  our  own  experience  furnishes  more  ;  some¬ 
times  it  shows  as  a  racial  characteristic — of  minds 
which  combined  an  intensely  idealist  or  mystic 
disposition  with  a  keen  business  sense :  S. 
Teresa  and  Mr.  Gladstone,  to  cite  no  others. 
&nd  so  in  Sophocles  the  two  parts  of  wise  man 
of  the  world  and  idealist  permeated  with 

1  El.,  61.  2  Ant.,  296. 

8  Fr.,  86.  4  Fr.,  749. 


lxiv 


SOPHOCLES 


mystical  consciousness  were  doubled  without 
incongruity. 

There  is  one  more  aspect  of  his  mysticism 
which  I  wish  to  elaborate  before  leaving  this 
topic.  It  is  his  conception  of  Time.  Time, 
either  universally  personified,  or  personified 
severally  in  its  divisions,  presented  itself  to 
Sophocles’  imagination  not  as  a  mere  “within- 
which,”  a  setting,  a  condition,  but  as  an  agent 
effecting  those  things  which  take  place  within 
its  duration.  We  have  quasi  personifying 
expressions  for  portions  of  time,  as  when  we 
say,  “  that  day  was  the  author  of  many 
troubles,”  ‘‘that,  year  saw  Queen  Victoria’s 
death ;  ”  but  the  picturesque  value  of  the 
language  in  these  is  dead ;  they  are  rhetorical 
variations.  With  Sophocles  the  personification 
is  bold  and  lively,  and  of  frequent  recurrence — 

Xpovos  yap  evpiaprjs  deos.1 

( See  Wilamowitz’  note  on  Hercules ,  557.) 

It  is  again  Xj°0^0?  universally  in 

6  7ras  av  7r pcTTOL  TvapO>v  evveTve.lv 
raSe  8lk<£  \p6vos? 

Notice  the  boldness  of  the  figure  when  Clytem- 
nestra  describes  her  anxious  life — • 

6  TTpovnarlov  xpovos,  & c.3 

“  Time,  in  whose  protection  I  stood,  led  me  the  life  of 
one  ever  awaiting  death.” 


1  El 179. 


2  EL,  1255. 


3  EL ,  781. 


INTRODUCTION 


lxv 


In  Fr.  280  he  is 


t  /  /])  (  a 

o  iravv  opojv 

kcu  TvavT  (xkovcov  TrdvT}  dvaTTTVcrcrei  >(/o6vo5. 


For  determinations  of  Time  so  personified  we 
have  aiow1  represented  as  “ushering  Hercules 
homeward  and  from  home  on  somebody’s 
errand.”  We  remember  old  OKdipus’  warning 
to  Theseus  of  the  fickleness  of  States.  First  it 
is  Xi oovos,2  who  in  his  omnipotence  confounds 
all  things  except  gods,  then 

“  Time  he  goes  his  ways, 

And  countless  Time  breeds  countless  nights  and  days.”3 


But  in  Antigone 4  he  says,  “Neither  slumber 
overtakes  the  pre-eminence  of  Zeus,  slumber 
which  lays  traps  for  all  things,  nor  shall  the 
tireless  months  disperse  it.”  And  again,  in  a 
moment  of  strange  exaltation,  kindled  by  the  1 
gathering  mystery  of  his  birth,  CEdipus  says: — 


“  Chance  is  the  mother  who  bare  me,  the  months  are  my 
brothers ;  they  have  mapped  out  my  seasons  of  great  and 
lowly  estate.”5 


And  lastly,  the  vvktcs  kcu  rj^epm  are  personified 
as  agents.6 

We  can  see  how  this  mystical  conception 
suits  the  serenity  and  completeness  of  his  view 
on  life :  he  traces  every  event  back  to  this 

1  Track 34.  2  O.  C.,  607. 

3  0.  C.,  617.  4  Ant.,  607. 

5  O.  T.,  1082.  6  El.  1365;  cf.  O.  C.,  931. 

e 


lxvi 


SOPHOCLES 


all-embracing  condition  (as  we  think  of  it)  as 
cause,  over  which  God  sits  absolute ;  and  by 
realising  Time  as  a  great  dimension  of  Neces¬ 
sity,  he  realises  the  supernatural  as  present  in 
detail  in  all  things  as  Time  unfolds  them  in 
sequence — 

“  Still  at  the  roaring  loom  of  Time  I  ply, 

And  weave  for  God  the  garment  thou  see’st  Him  by.” 

t 

V 

It  is  curious  to  contrast  the  fewness  of  his 
yvcofjLai  with  the  ample  Euripidean  store ;  and  it  is 
typical  of  the  finish  of  his  work,  that  he  scarcely 
ever  shows  the  commonplace  book ;  scarcely 
ever  a  passage  betrays  that  it  has  been  “got  in  ” 
— so  thorough  is  the  unity  of  composition  that 
it  is  like  a  natural  growth,  cut  from  which  no 
specimen  is  organically  complete.  In  Euripides 
we  too  often  see  the  proverb  or  the  tag  of 
versified  popular  philosophy  which  has  been 
composed  separately,  noted  and  introduced. 
But  there  are  just  a  few  proverbs  which  are 
worth  quoting,  if  only  for  their  comparative 
insignificance. 

“Trying  to  mend  mischief  with  mischief,”  1 

— borrowed  maybe  from  Herodotus. 

airav  to  xprjcrTov  yvrjcrLav  cfavcriv , 2 


1  Fr.,  75. 


2  Fr.y  85. 


INTRODUCTION 


lxvii 


which  may  bear  some  relation  to  the  story  of 
his  own  illegitimate  son. 

4k  Kapra  /3aitov  yvwTos  av  yevoiT  avyjp,1 

a  dictum  I  wish  were  true  in  the  attempt  to 
decipher  the  author  from  his  remains ! 

Fr,  371  gives  his  version  of — 

“  Heaven  helps  those  who  help  themselves.” 

Fr,  344  and  345  are  substantially  found  up 
and  down  in  Pindar  ;  you  may  call  them  antici¬ 
pations  of  forsan  et  haec  olim  meminisse  juvabit . 
In  misogynism  he  does  not  altogether  belie  the 
literary  tradition  of  Greeks,  though  we  think 
differently  of  the  author  of  Electra  and  Antigone. 

/  v  \  \  y  y  yf  jw  v  o 

KdKLOV  aAA  OVK  €( TTIV  OUO  6CTTCU  7 TOT€  A 

yvvai ko<$,  €l  tl  7rr)pa  ylyvercu  flpOTols. 

From  Epigonoi. 

His  Tereus 3  contained  a  very  Euripidean 
passage  of  reflection  on  the  lot  of  woman  under 
the  Greek  regime. 

Fr.  617,  from  Phaedra ,  is  more  like  the  Book 
of  Proverbs  : — 

ywaiKos  ovSev  av  pel £ov  kolkov 
KdKrjs  avrjp  KTrjcraiT  av,  ov8e  (Tiocfypovos 
Kpelaaov’  iraOcov  8’  eKacrros  5v  Tvxy  \eyet. 

The  last  comment  was  just  the  point  of  the 


1  Fr.,  262. 


2  Fr.,  188. 


3  Fr.,  521. 


lxviii 


SOPHOCLES 


gibe  against  Euripides.  Lastly,  one  which  you 
parallel  by  the  pageful  from  Horace  and  the 
Latin  elegiac  poets — 

o/Okods  eya)  yvvcuKos  eis  v8(»p  ypa<j)(o ,1 

VI 

Strictly  personal  allusions,  of  the  petty  auto¬ 
biographical  kind,  such  as  self-conscious  poets 
indulge  in,  I  know  not  one  in  his  works  for 
certain  ;  so  consistently  is  his  private  self  kept 
under  by  his  artistic  self.  It  is  possible  there 
may  be  a  private  motive  at  the  bottom  of  the 
complaint  in  Antigone — 

oo'Tts  S’  avco^eA^Ta  (fuTvei  tckv a  2 
rt  tovS  av  CLTTOig  aXXo  7rXrjv  avT<£  7 rovovs 
(fivcrou  7ro A.i/*'  re  tolctlv  egdpolcnv  yeXwv  j 

The  words  agree  with  the  story  that  he  had 
thankless  sons ;  but  then,  in  the  want  of  any¬ 
thing  to  gratify  curiosity  about  the  poet,  it 
may  be  that  out  of  such  passages  as  at  least 
suggested  a  personal  touch,  were  developed  the 
corresponding  stories. 

Two  fragments  on  Life3  are  burning  with 
personal  conviction,  but  any  poet  who  lived  to 
be  ninety  might  write  them  with  equal  ardour — 

tov  ffiv  yap  ov8el<s  d>s  6  yrjpaarKiov  £pa.} 


1  Fr.  741. 


2  Ant.,  645. 


3  Fr.,  63  and  64. 


INTRODUCTION  lxix 


and 

to  (rjv  yap  &  irai  Travros  rjSiov  yavos' 

6avc.lv  yap  ovk  c^cart  rot?  avroicri  Sis, 

and  yet  the  same  man  could  say — 

ovk  €(TTiv  a  Ay  os  oTov  rj  7 roWrj  fap 

Creon’s  reproach  to  CEdipus’  hot  temper1 
may  be  a  current  proverb  aptly  introduced,  or 
a  touch  of  introspective  analysis  by  the  old  poet, 
which  posterity  handed  about  as  a  proverb. 

Ovpov  yap  ouSev  yrjpas  carcv  aAAo  7 r\r]v 
Oavelv. 

The  opening  sentiment  of  the  chorus  in 
oVrts  tov  7rAeovos  pepov s  2 

seems  likewise  inspired  by  personal  feeling ; 
but,  as  in  the  greatest  poetry  always,  it  is 
strong  personal  emotion  with  the  egoism 
purged  out  of  it,  and  grown  typical  and  uni¬ 
versally  valid.  Even  the  most  finished  artist 
may  betray  himself  by  the  frequency  with 
which  his  choice  returns  to  certain  subjects,  for 
this  is  a  bias  unconscious  and  hard  to  check ; 
but  still  it  is  only  a  suspicion  that  here  we  have 
the  man  himself  behind  the  mask :  the  mask 
wears  always  its  bidden  expression,  but  the  turn 
of  the  head  in  one  direction  belongs  to  the 

1  a  c.,  954.  2  0.  C.f  1211. 


lxx 


SOPHOCLES 


man.  So  with  this  dwelling  upon  old  age. 
There  is  one  more  passage  on  the  same  theme 
— the  temper  of  age ;  but  the  corrupt  text 3 
allows  no  more  than  to  see  what  the  subject  is. 

One  more  topic  and  I  have  done  with  his 
matter  considered  in  this  artificial  abstraction 
from  its  form  in  which  we  must  needs  con¬ 
sider  it. 


VII 

A  great  deal  of  humbug  is  current  about 
the  classical  neglect  for  Nature.  We  cannot 
go  into  the  whole  subject,  for  it  is  matter  for  a 
whole  book.  It  is  treated  in  charming  English 
by  Professor  Hardie  in  a  printed  Inaugural. 
Briefly,  the  Greeks  had  a  keen  sense  of  natural 
beauty.  But  just  as  it  was  a  surfeit  of  civilisa¬ 
tion  which  turned  aside  to  idealise  the  “  noble 
savage  ”  {see  Leslie  Stephen),  so  the  Words¬ 
worthian  view  of  Nature  is  in  essence  an 
exaggerated  reaction  from  artificiality.  The 
Nature-worship  in  Wordsworth  and  Meredith 
is  rather  pantheistic  than  pagan  in  feeling.  To 
the  Greeks,  just  as  the  powers  of  Nature  were 
figured  in  anthropomorphic  gods,  so  brute 
Nature  was  admired  and  loved  in  relation  to 
man.  The  reaction  turns  to  forest  and 


1  Fr.t  808. 


INTRODUCTION  lxxi 

moorland,  to  the  wilderness.  Newman  has 
the  classical  feeling  when,  in  a  lovely  description 
of  rich,  cultivated  provincial  Africa,  he  says  that 
the  natural  beauty  is  touched  with  a  human 
sentiment  because  the  mark  of  human  service  is 
upon  it  all.  Man’s  labour  has  turned  it  to 
man’s  blessing. 

The  chorus  in  CEdipus  Coloneus ,  which  sings 
the  beauties  of  Colonos,  is  perhaps  the  most 
hackneyed  thing  in  Greek  literature  on  the 
subject ;  yet,  mind  you,  even  here  it  is  the 
glory  of  Nature  subjugated  by  Art.  Left  to 
bare  Nature,  the  hill  of  Colonos  is  to-day  a 
barren  earth-heap.  Sophocles  celebrates  the 
beauties  of  Nature  in  luxuriant  cultivation — 
the  nightingales  of  Colonos  sing  in  a  grove 
planted  by  man;  the  streams  of  Ilissos  are 
shepherded  by  man  in  order  to  irrigate.  So, 
too,  in  a  lovely  fragment  preserved  by  Cicero, 
Sophocles — tuus  amicus ,  as  Cicero  calls  him, 
addressing  the  bland  and  genial  Atticus — 

<()€v  <f>ev  tl  tovtov  yappa  fJLtl^ov  av  \a(3ois 
tov  yrjs  ZTrL\pdv<ravTa  Kqd'  vtto  crreyr) 
noWrjs  a.Kov(rai  xf/aKaSos  ev8ovcry  (fapevc  ‘ 1 

“  Ah  !  is  there  any  greater  joy  than  this  ? 

To  touch  the  land,  and  then,  well-roof’d  from  weather, 
Drowsily  hear  the  raindrops  plash  together  ?  ” 


1  Fr.,  574. 


lxxii 


SOPHOCLES 


Not  the  beauty  of  rain  for  its  own  sake,  coat 
or  no  coat,  but  the  same  feeling  as  inspired 
Lucretius’  Suave,  mari  magno.  The  roof  makes 
the  charm  of  the  rain. 


VIII 


We  have  tried  to  trace  the  outline  of  his 
thought,  to  extract  his  opinion  upon  certain 
questions,  bring  out  certain  conceptions  which 
seemed  significant  for  the  reconstruction  of  his 
personality.  The  outline  of  his  thought  only  : 
for  the  language  in  which  thought  incarnates 
itself  makes  the  very  colour  of  the  thought. 
We  have  observed  a  certain  serenity  and  com¬ 
pleteness  as  the  dominant  notes  in  his  disposi¬ 
tion.  These  qualities  correspond  exactly  in  his 
language. 

But,  first,  let  us  note  a  few  judgments  of 
the  ancients  upon  his  style.  The  Anthology 1 
contains  a  pretty  piece  by  Simmias  the 
Theban — 


“  Creep  softly,  ivy-plant,  and  softly  o’er 
Sophocles’  grave  thy  tresses  green  outpour : 
Bloom  roses  here  at  large,  and  cluster’d  vine 
Her  lissom  tendril  circumfus’d  entwine, 

For  him  who  made  in  honey’d  style  discreet 
The  influences  of  Muse  and  Grace  to  meet.” 


1  Anth.  Palat vii.  22. 


INTRODUCTION 


Ixxiii 


ev67r[tis  TriwTocppovog  for  his  writing  and  6 
fieXixpos  for  himself  are  Simmias’  words. 

Plutarch,  in  the  essay  de  gloria  Atheniensium , 
praises  Aeschylus  for  cnro/ia^  “  large  utterance,” 
Euripides  for  crocpca ,  “  ingenuity,”  and  distin¬ 
guishes  Sophocles  for  Xoyiorrjs,  which  we  mayi 
render  “  eloquent  facility.”  The  scholiast' 
selects  the  ode  in  CEdipus  Coloneus 1  as  an  ex¬ 
ample  of  'yXacpvpov  kcu  wSikou  /xeAo?,  “  smooth 
and  tuneful  poetry.” 

Now  Burke  says  of  smoothness  that  it  is  “a 
quality  so  essential  to  beauty  that  I  do  not 
now  recollect  anything  beautiful  that  is  not 
smooth.”  Remember  that  he  is  distinguishing 
beautiful  from  sublime.  Uncertainty  is  sub¬ 
lime.  But  where  he  says,  “  A  great  clearness 
helps  but  little  towards  affecting  the  passions, 
as  it  is  in  some  sort  an  enemy  to  all  enthusi¬ 
asms  whatever,”  he  makes  a  statement  which 
hardly  allows  for  the  special  requirements  of 
drama.  Modern  critics  have  found  “  trans¬ 
parency”  to  be  the  great  character  of  Sophocles. 
And  justly  :  only  it  is  a  transparency  where  the 
eye  penetrates  deep  and  deeper,  and  yet  never 
finds  bottom.  Smallness  is  another  of  Burke’s 
attributes  for  beauty;  and,  if  we  are  not  strain¬ 
ing  his  meaning,  it  is  true  that  the  definiteness 
and  neat  comprehensibleness  of  each  phrase  is 

1  o.  c.,  668. 


lxxiv 


SOPHOCLES 


among  Sophocles’  excellences  —  though  it  is 
idle  to  look  for  beauty  alone  and  not  sublimity, 
in  the  face  of  Longinus’  opinion ;  and  there 
are  moments  in  the  style  where  precisely  the 
baffling  vagueness  of  the  phrase  is  a  virtue. 

It  seems  to  happen  that  the  colloquial  ease, 
the  middle  diction  of  Coleridge,  the  walk  of 
language  which  lies  common  to  poetry  and 
prose,  is  only  accessible  to  those  whose  minds 
are  well  nourished  with  reading  and  experience 
of  the  world.  Contrast  a  Byron  or  a  Shelley 
even  (in  many  of  his  pieces)  with  a  Keats. 
And  here  again  character  and  circumstances 
tell  upon  style  :  the  shyness  of  a  recluse  or 
unpopular  poet  will  draw  him  into  a  diction 
quite  removed  from  that  of  everyday  life,  or 
else  draw  him  into  a  cynical  protest  against  the 
dignities  of  convention.  In  Euripides  we  see 
both.  Sophocles  found  that  he  could  so  handle 
the  common  speech  that  with  only  a  rare  occa¬ 
sional  stilting  it  rose  high  enough  for  the 
elevation  of  poetical  thought.  He  hardly  ever 
puzzles  his  audience.  But  we  shall  see  that  in 
some  of  his  phraseologies  he  appears  to  enjoy 
using  a  peculiar  ambiguity — the  nature  of  which 
is  that  the  language  bears  a  superficial  con¬ 
struction  obvious  enough  to  save  the  plain  man 
from  stumbling,  whereas  to  an  ear  which  re¬ 
tains  and  weighs  the  whole  sentence,  another 

.  j 

l 


INTRODUCTION  Ixxv 

and  subtler  construction  is  found  to  be  in¬ 
volved. 

I  have  mentioned  Longinus.  You  are 
familiar  with  the  censure  which  he  pronounces 
upon  Sophocles  and  Pindar  together.  Cer¬ 
tainly  each  is  sinning  in  good  company ! 

“There  are  times  when  by  sheer  force  their  style  seems 
as  it  were  a  general  conflagration,  but  there  are  many  times 
when  they  sink  extinguished  unaccountably  and  fall  most 
disastrously.”  1 

We  may  not  disregard  the  criticism,  because 
Plutarch  also  accuses  Sophocles  of  avcojmaXia ,2 
and  Dionys.  Halic.3  has  this  sentence:  “And 
often  he  falls  from  full  grandeur  to  hollow 
pretension  ;  I  mean  he  ends  by  being  quite 
mean  and  homely.”  This  might  be  Dr.  John¬ 
son  on  Wordsworth !  Or  for  a  better  ex¬ 
ample  how  far  a  critic  may  be  misled  by  the 
contemporary  fashion,  think  of  Dr.  Johnson 
describing  the  metre  of  Lycidas  as  “harsh  and 
unpleasing.”  Plutarch’s  judgments  in  pure 
literature  are  to  be  taken  with  a  caution, 
because  he  is  infected  with  the  didactic  and 
moralising  bias  of  a  decadence.  But  the  author 
of  the  Trepl  ihj/ou ?  is  generally  appreciative  ;  and 
in  order  to  justify  his  remark,  we  must  suppose 
that  Sophocles  did  not  always  write  on  the 

1  De  Subl xxxiii.  5.  2  De  Red.  Aud.  Poet .,  13. 

3  Veit.  Script.  Cetts ii.  1 1. 


lxxvi 


SOPHOCLES 


level  of  our  seven  plays.  Particularly,  it  may 
be  supposed  that  in  the  period  when  he  was 
consciously  reforming  the  diction  of  drama,  he 
may  have  been  guilty  of  too  violent  contrasts 
between  the  Aeschylean  tradition  and  the  new 
protesting  manner.  I  think  we  could  point  to 
plenty  of  cases  in  the  poetry  of  the  Wordsworth 
epoch  where  an  echo  of  the  eighteenth  century 
tradition,  rhetorical  and  conventional,  offends 
sharply  against  the  tones  of  the  new  plain  style. 

Therefore  I  do  not  feel  that  we  need  be 
disturbed  in  the  conclusion  that  the  note  of 
Sophocles’  style  is  smoothness  and  evenness. 
And  it  is  a  smoothness  and  evenness  secured 
quite  as  much  by  levelling  down  as  levelling 
up.  Read  any  whole  play  through,  and  you 
will  not  fail  to  be  struck  by  the  sobriety  of 
Sophocles  in  abstaining  from  purple  patches 
which  make  the  surrounding  fabric  look  homely 
and  dingy.  In  his  best  plays  he  never  em¬ 
broiders  ;  however  rich  the  fabric,  it  is  self- 
coloured  and  woven  in  one  piece.  It  realises 
in  poetry  what  Boutmy,  as  already  quoted,  says 
of  architecture  (see  p.  xxxix.).  I  do  not  say  that 
there  are  no  passages  especially  stilisirt ,  but  even 
where,  in  obedience  to  the  convention,  he  runs 
into  descriptive  bravuras  in  a  pwis  (e.g.  the 
chariot  race  in  Electra 1  and  the  Seven  against 

1  El.,  680. 


INTRODUCTION 


lxxvii 


Thebes  in  CEdipus  Coloneus  *),  the  lines  do  not 
stand  out  as  overcharged  ornament  detracting 
attention  from  the  general  effect.  They  do  not 
monopolise  memory,  or  figure  as  set  pieces 
which  would  be  no  less  effective  in  a  book  of 
elegant  extracts  than  in  their  own  organic  place 
in  the  work. 

To  the  same  principle  or  craft  belongs  his 
practice  in  the  matter  of  metaphor.  Violent 
metaphors  are  retrenched  ;  where  the  metaphor 
is  inclined  to  be  too  sudden  and  startling,  apt 
rather  to  perplex  than  to  please  and  illuminate, 
he  carefully  suits  the  context  in  order  to  abate 
it.  Two  examples  from  Ajax :  the  hero  is 
described  in  his  moody  fit  of  dejection  after  the 
return  of  his  reason  : 2 — 

“  Get  thee  up  from  thy  seat  where  thou  art  upreared  in 
this  livelong  anguished  repose,  kindling  the  flame  of  destruc¬ 
tion  heaven  high !  Meanwhile  the  pride  of  foes  runs  and 
spreads  unabashed  in  draughty  valley  floors.” 

The  double  metaphor  from  conflagration  is 
mutually  supported  and  eased. 

Again,  the  madman  is  likened  to  “  a  moping 
herdsman  of  the  mind,”  3  and  a  little  later  the 
same  figure  is  delicately  suggested  in  the  words, 
“  No  more  he  abides  in  the  familiar  stock  of 
moods,  but  consorts  aloof.”  4 

1  O.  C.,  1300. 

3  Ajax ,  614. 


2  Ajax,  195. 
4  Ajax ,  640. 


Ixxviii 


SOPHOCLES 


Not  that  this  self-restraint  in  writing  debars 
him  from  striking  hard  and  boldly  at  times ; 
but  it  saves  him  from  the  bewildering  rapidity 
with  which  Aeschylus  breaks  from  one  meta¬ 
phor  to  another,  each  rather  indicated  than 
developed.  Of  Sophocles’  force  when  he  lets 
it  go,  no  better  instance  than  the  fragment  of 
Teukros ,  in  which  Telamon  (or  his  wife),  upon 
learning  Ajax’s  death,  says — Teukros  had  per¬ 
haps  celebrated  his  brother’s  heroism  before 
confessing  he  was  dead  : — 

“  O  vain  delight,  wherewith  I  was  delighted, 

To  hear  his  praise,  as  one  alive,  recited  ! 

The  fiend  of  Death  in  darkness  all  the  while 
Fawning  upon  me  let  the  joy  beguile.”1 

So  constant  is  the  tone  of  diction  to  which 
metaphor  and  choice  of  words  conform,  that  if 
Sophocles  is  true  to  Sophocles,  we  are  safe  in 
rejecting  the  passage  which  amplifies  the  text 
eyOpwv  aScopa  Scopa2  not  only  on  the  grounds  of 
its  singularities,  but  its  violent  over-emphasis 
of  diction.  Who  knows  but  that  Alexander 
Aetolus,  who  recensed  the  Dramatists  for  the 
Museum  Library,  may  not  have  permitted 
himself  to  add  such  an  embellishment  ? 

I  have  said  something  of  the  Sophistic  influ¬ 
ence — that  they  were  the  first  grammarians. 
Sophocles  derived  a  much  more  valuable 

1  Fr.,  516.  2  Ajax ,  1028. 


INTRODUCTION 


Ixxix 


inheritance  from  them  in  cultivating  this  pro¬ 
vince  than  did  Euripides.  Sophists’  rhetoric,  the 
mere  ingenuity  of  finding  pros  and  cons,  and 
phrasing  them  with  point  and  neatness,  is  never 
perhaps  quite  absent  from  Stichomuthia,  but 
passages  like  Ajax^  2  65,  where  Tecmessa 
sophises  over  her  grief,  are  rare  enough  in 
Sophocles.  But  as  a  manipulator  of  language 
we  compare  him  with  Virgil  and  Tennyson. 
In  each  case  it  is  a  serene  temperament  that 
takes  exact  count  of  the  values  and  origins  and 
associations  of  words  as  they  pass,  and  arranges 
them  conformably.  He  is  one  of  those  masters 
of  style  who  resist  in  every  page  the  flattening, 
disfiguring  effect  of  usage  upon  current  speech. 
The  dead  picturesqueness  in  a  word  is  recalled 
to  life  by  a  cunning  collocation,  the  flattened 
metaphor  repointed,  the  slipshod  phrase  erected 
into  dignity  and  significance  by  some  slight 
repair.  He  plays  with  words  as  only  a  man 
with  the  philologer’s  sense  of  their  derivations 
can  play.1  He  loves  such  expressions  as  are 
philologically  ambiguous,  though  usage  has  de¬ 
termined  them  toward  one  meaning  ;  these  he 
arranges  so  as  to  do  duty  in  another.  And 
often  he  seems  to  retain  a  wilful  ambiguity, 
where  either  sense  suits  his  context,  for  love 
of  being  doubly  (poovaevra  a-vverotcn.  The  genius 
1  O.  C.,  46,  1267-70,  189 ;  0.  T.y  338 ;  O.  C.,  99 6. 


lxxx 


SOPHOCLES 


of  the  language  favoured  such  finesses,  e.g.  in  the 
case  of  compound  adjectives.  See  a  phrase  like 
7 r  pay  os  acncoirov  : 1  it  might  mean  “a  dark  business 
— hard  to  understand/’  an  “  unwatched  busi¬ 
ness,”  an  “unwatchful  business.”  Compare  here 
irpoayj}^  dywvos  of  El.  682 ;  his  juggling  with  the 
equivoques  in  di ticttos,  d.7r€i0yjg,  dmo-TeLVj  dmOeiv  :  2 
a'(xe7rT09,  Fr.  48  ( cf, \  CE dipus  Coloneus ,  1022, 
eyKpareig).3  The  Scholiast’s  phrase  ISlws  ecrgrj/xd- 
TLcre  tov  Xoyov 4  is  true  many  times  over.  The 
passage  is  not  a  bad  instance  of  his  technique  : — 

w  fJ.rj  Oavpafc  irpos  to  Xt7ra pes 

tzkv  el  cfxtvevr  deXyrTa  prjKvvu)  Aoyov.5 

See  how  he  has  quickened  an  everyday  phrase 
so  as  to  enforce  attention,  and  contrived  to 
indicate  in  a  dozen  words  all  that,  expressed 
fully,  would  have  been  said  in — 

p 7)  davpa^e  7r/jos  to  At7ra/5€s  ei  Aurapco? 
deXTTTCDV  (f)aV€VT(DV  TWV  T €KV(OV  pTJKVVO) 

TOV  Trepl  TOVTIOV  XoyOV. 

And,  above  all,  notice  how  the  full  effect  de¬ 
pends  upon  the  order  in  which  the  words  strike 
the  ear ;  the  interlinking  of  members  in  the 
phrase,  the  art  of  making  a  word  or  a  member 
do  double  duty,  consists  chiefly  in  the  order 
of  words.  I  have  not  time  to  develop  the 

1  Ajax,  21.  2  Ant.,  656.  3  O.  T. 

4  Schol.  on  0.  C..  mg.  6  O.  C.,  1116. 


INTRODUCTION 


lxxxi 


examples  in  detail :  it  must  suffice  to  note  that 
the  figure  government  air 6  koivov  is  a  favourite 
resource  of  his,  and  leave  the  student  to  work 
out  the  instances.  Here  are  some  references  : 
Ajax,  330,  763,  792. 

No  writer  cuts  his  language  more  exactly  to 
fit  his  thought,  is  more  free  from  that  degra¬ 
dation  of  style  to  which  the  newspapers  have 
brought  us — I  mean  the  state  where  we  clothe 
our  thought  in  reach-me-downs ,  where  a  single 
word  is  never  used  but  it  draws  after  it  by 
association  some  dead  phrase  :  such  a  lingo  as 
“  constitutes  a  leading  feature  in  the  situation  ” 
— four  dead  metaphors  bundled  together  into  a 
phrase  which,  to  any  one  who  is  sensitive  to  the 
significances  of  words,  is  more  ludicrous  than 
all  the  Irish  bulls ;  a  phrase  irpoo-Oe  \ecov  oiriOev 
Se  SpaKcov,  fjceararr]  Se  ^ i/aaipa  !  Of  course  the 
danger  of  an  over-acute  sensitiveness  to  the 
rights  of  each  word  is  that  it  may  run  into 
pedantry,  which  refuses  any  compromise  with 
usage.  Sophocles  saves  himself  from  that  ex¬ 
cess  by  his  steady  approximation  to  the  ease 
but.  not  the  laxity  of  colloquial  speech.  Natural 
stylists  of  the  first  water  are  invariably  volu¬ 
minous — Plato,  Swift,  Newman :  Sophocles’ 
total  of  composition  must  have  been  fully 
100,000  lines.  We  cannot  believe,  then,  that 
his  subtlety  and  pregnancy  of  diction  are  the 

/ 


lxxxii 


SOPHOCLES 


fruits  of  intense  revision  and  concentration. 
His  ease  must  have  horrified  the  ancient  pedant 
as  much  as  he  has  provoked  the  modern 
“scientific”  critic.  For  instances  of  a  phrase 
clear  in  meaning,  but  almost  baffling  analysis, 
take  Electra ,  466;  Ajax,  176,  475;  CEdipus 
Coloneus ,  1019-1020,  967. 

Words  must  be  forced  to  yield  their  maxi¬ 
mum  of  significance :  that  is  the  principle  by 
which  he  makes  a  seemingly  plain  and  trans¬ 
parent  style  equal  to  the  interpretation  of  the 
subtlest  thought.  Thought  must  be  working 
in  every  corner  of  the  phrase.  Good  writing, 
of  course,  postulates  a  good  reader :  the  tele¬ 
gram  style  of  composition  is  worthy  of  the 
reader  who  runs  his  eye  down  the  page  collecting 
keywords,  and  only  stopping  where  it  meets 
an  obstacle.  One  of  the  greatest  resources  for 
coercing  language  into  expressing  an  uncommon 
thought  is  the  figure  called  oxymoron — a  form 
contrary  to  the  axioms  of  verbal  logic,  but  a 
form  alone  able  to  express  some  of  the  deepest 
intuitions  of  the  mind.  For  one  instance  of 
this  trick  of  forcing  language  to  say  two  things 
and  two  contradictory  things,  both  true,  at  once, 
take  CEdipus  Coloneus ,  1 3 1 ;  or  the  anguished  re¬ 
pose  in  the  passage  {Aj.  195)  quoted  on  p.  lxxvii. 

One  of  his  favourite  manoeuvres  for  quick¬ 
ening  those  parts  of  a  sentence  which  would 


INTRODUCTION 


lxxxiii 


otherwise  be  mere  grammatical  fillings  (cases 
where  thought  dispenses  with  what  grammar 
requires  to  express)  is  his  treatment  of  the 
substantive  verb.  Greek  grammar  employs  the 
present  participle  &v  in  a  number  of  usages 
where  the  thought  would  be  content  with  its 
ellipse;  so  that  cov  tends  to  become  a  dead  word 
in  the  sentence.  Sophocles  reinforces  its  signi¬ 
ficance  by  compounding  it  with  <rvv,  aVo,  eir), 
irapa,  so  that  it  helps  out  the  general  sense  of 
the  passage.  Instances  are  many :  Ajaxy  267, 
338  ( cf  also  491),  610,  855  ;  CEdipus  Rex ,  457, 
863  ;  Philo cteteSy  16 1  ;  CEdipus  Coloneus,  7,  772, 
946, 498. 

His  employment  of  personification  is  remark¬ 
ably  restrained  in  comparison  with  Aeschylus. 
To  take  only  the  examples  in  CEdipus  Coloneus  / 
you  will  see  that  in  each  case  the  personifica¬ 
tion  serves  to  make  an  otherwise  trite  sentence 
vivid,  but  without  being  fantastic.  But  in  this 
particular,  as  also  in  the  choice  of  metaphor,2 
he  is  specially  admirable  in  suiting  the  phrase 
and  the  colouring  of  the  phrase,  its  more  or 
less  of  poetical  and  imaged  quality,  to  the 
character.  This  is  best  seen  by  collecting  the 
figures  and  metaphors  in  a  Messenger’s  speech — 

1  O.  C.,  240,  267,  612,  658,  855,  1281. 

2  Ajax ,  348. 


lxxxiv 


SOPHOCLES 


the  watchman  in  Antigone  is  a  good  example 1 — 
and  contrasting  them  with  those  used  by,  say, 
Creon  in  the  same  play. 

Evaluation  of  words,  to  judge  just  how  a 
particular  phrase  struck  the  contemporary  ear, 
whether  this  metaphor  was  felt  as  a  figure  or 
as  a  dead  cipher,  what  were  the  associations  of 
this  word,  what  did  this  particular  collocation 
of  words  say  to  the  emotions  or  the  intelligence 
of  the  Periclean  audience  :  such  questions  are 
the  highest  problems  of  philology.  Our 
Scholia ,  silly  as  they  sometimes  are,  and  shirk¬ 
ing  cruces  to  expatiate  on  the  obvious  as  they 
do,  are  still  the  best  guide  to  a  solution:  they 
are  the  comments  of  men  who  thought  in 
Greek,  however  debased  a  Greek.  That  blood 
is  thicker  than  water  for  these  purposes,  that  a 
living  tradition  is  worth  all  the  industry  of  a 
studious  barbarian,  is  sufficiently  proved  to 
anybody  who  observes  the  essentially  different 
sympathy  and  finesse  with  which  an  Italian  or 
a  Frenchman  handles  a  classical  matter — 
Fraccaroli  or  Croiset  compared  even  with  a 
Wilamowitz  v.  Moellendorff. 

It  is  a  profitable  exercise  to  go  through  any 

1  In  this  character  we  seem  to  hear  the  very  voice  of  the  people : 
mother  wit,  garrulity,  poetical  quality  in  imagery,  homely  direct¬ 
ness,  and  a  slightly  ludicrous  echo  of  the  cleverness,  psychological 
or  verbal,  of  the  exquisites  of  Athens — like  the  crumbs  of  learning  or 
science  which  fall  into  our  modern  popular  newspapers. 


INTRODUCTION 


lxxxv 


given  portion  of  the  Scholia  and  gather  the 
points  which  the  ancient  commentators  selected 
for  admiration.  In  the  Scholia  on  Ajax,  nothing 
comes  in  for  so  much  praise  as  Sophocles’  skill 
in  observing  “  characterising  ”  ;  but  the 

critics  commended  also,  in  a  great  many  places, 
the  pathos  ( TrepnraOrji ?,  e/ui7ra0h,  iraQriTLKOv,  7ra@o?); 
stagecraft  ( ohcovo/ua )  is  another  selected  merit ; 
and  the  expressions,  irpOKOiTTei  rj  V7r66e(ri$,  crvveyeiv 
rrjv  vTroOeo-iv ,  belong  to  another  class  :  they  refer 
to  the  skill  with  which  episodes,  dialogues,  and 
all  the  rest  of  the  machinery  are  made  to 
subserve  the  general  purpose. 

•  •  •  •  • 
Finally,  we  come  back  on  M.  Arnold  :  “  he 
saw  life  steadily  and  saw  it  whole.”  An  idealist 
to  the  bottom  of  his  nature,  he  still  found  the 
best  philosophy  was  to  “  keep  his  place  among 
the  living.”  Other-worldliness  never  soured 
this  world  for  him  ;  sense  of  the  supernatural 
did  not  dry  up  the  natural  aptitudes  and  pas- 
sions ;  death  did  not  spoil  life  for  him,  Ionian 
though  he  was.  He  could  see  the  world  full 
of  contradiction  and  not  turn  cynic.  His 
dramatic  eye  saw  the  awful  conflict  between 
the  law  of  conscience  and  the  law  of  the  State ; 
but  the  humble  sweetness  of  good  temper  and 
good  sense  found  a  solution  for  all  doubts.  He 
always  appealed  from  the  momentary  to  the 


Ixxxvi 


SOPHOCLES 


total  experience.  And  he  was  true  to  himself 
in  his  art.  The  form  in  which  he  set  him¬ 
self  to  work  was  a  compromise,  a  coalition  of 
elements  which  tended  to  fly  apart,  only  main¬ 
tained  by  tact  of  craftsmanship.  And  as  in  his 
view  of  life,  as  in  his  method  as  a  dramatic 
poet,  so  in  his  use  of  language  :  he  always  leads 
into  the  large  outlook.  Every  word  must  be 
subordinated  to  the  phrase ;  every  sentence  to 
the  speech,  the  dialogue,  the  total  expression  of 
the  character  to  be  presented  ;  and,  lastly,  no 
inorganic  ornament,  nothing  that  unduly  con¬ 
centrates  the  attention  which  should  be  equally 
distributed  over  the  whole,  nothing  that  is  not 
a  member  or  feature  of  the  living  body  into 
which  the  whole  work  grows. 

7roX\a)v  koXwv  Set  to)  koXov  tl  fico/JLevM  i^Fr.  853). 

He  speaks  for  a  great  era  :  Renan  said  that 
if  he  had  three  lives,  one  of  the  other  two 
should  have  been  devoted  to  writing  the  history 
of  the  age  of  Pericles.  I  wish  this  volume 
might  be  able  to  convey  to  an  English  reader 
some  indication  of  the  message  and  the  voice — 
a  worthy  message  and  a  true  voice. 

Note. — References  to  the  Fragments  follow  the  number¬ 
ing  of  Nauck’s  edition  of  1856. 


KING  CEDIPUS 


KING  OEDIPUS 


Scene. — Before  the  gates  of  the  Palace  at  Thebes .  On 
the  steps  are  grouped  a  number  of  citizens,  young  and 
old ,  in  the  garb  of  suppliants  ;  foremost  among  them 

a  Priest. 

Enter  CE dipus  from  the  Palace . 

(Ed.  Fresh  brood  of  bygone  Cadmus,  children  dear, 
What  is  this  posture  of  your  sessions  here 
— Betufted  on  your  supplicating  rods  ?  C1) 

The  while  with  groans  and  calling  on  the  Gods 
The  city’s  filled,  and  incense^  fumes  the  while. 
For  this,  I,  CEdipus,  whom  all  men  style 
The  Famous ,  came  in  person,  and  preferred 
To  take  no  message  by  another’s  word. 

What  means  your  station  ?  Tell,  old  Sir,  for  here 
You  are  the  proper  spokesman  :  is  it  fear, 

Or  adoration  Never  doubt  my  will 
To  help  you  freely.  Hard  the  heart  that  still 
Unmoved  such  congregation  could  withstand  ! 
Priest.  Nay,  CEdipus,  high  Sovereign  of  my  land, 

You  see  us  at  your  altars,  what  we  are  : 

Some  having  yet  no  strength  to  flutter  far, 

Some  heavy  in  age  ;  priests,  even  as  I  of  Zeus, 
And  picked  of  the  youth  ; tufted  (the  sup¬ 
pliant’s  use) 

A 


2 


SOPHOCLES 


At  Pallas’  twofold (5)  fanes  the  populace 
Sits  close,  and  others  keep  the  Market-place, 

Or  hug  the  oracular  Ismenian  dust/6) 

Because  the  city,  as  see  it,  Sire,  you  must, 

Rolls  rudely  on  a  bloody  surge  adrift, 

And  no  strength  left  her  head  fro’  the  deep  to 
uplift  : 

Wasting  in  the  fruitful  blossoms  of  the  earth, 
Wasting  in  the  herds  of  the  field,  and  barren  birth 
Of  women  ; — ay,  and  worse — the  God  of  Fire(7) 
Pitches  and  harries  in  a  plague  most  dire  : 

Under  whose  hand  is  Cadmus’  house  made  void, 
Black  Hell  with  groans  and  lamentations  cloyed. 

’Tis  not  because  of  Gods  we  make  you  peer, 
We  and  these  children  crouch,  your  votaries,  here; 
But  by  a  life’s  adventures  first  of  men, 

And  dealings  with  the  Power  beyond  our  ken. 

Are  you  not  he  who  came  to  Cadmus’  walls 
And  cleared  us  of  the  debt  we  paid  as  thralls 
Of  the  Vixen  Bard  ?  Yet  vantage  none  you  had 
Of  us  to  teach  you  ;  God  alone  could  add 
The  gift  by  which  ’tis  said  and  ’tis  believed 
Our  city’s  fallen  fortunes  you  retrieved. 

Once  more,  majestic  Lord,  the  People’s  King, 
All  we  in  suppliant  petitioning^ 

Pray  you  find  help — whether  in  God  you  can, 
Whose  voice  you  hear,  or  know  of  any  in  man. 
I’ve  seen  the  advice  of  men  schooled  in  events 
Prove  vital  truth  even  in  its  accidents/9) 

Up  then  !  O  Prince  of  men,  our  State  upraise ! 
uP)  look  !  for  loyal  help  in  other  days 
The  land  acclaims  you  Saviour  :  that  is  well. 
But  leave  not  of  your  reign  this  tale  to  tell  : 


KING  CEDIPUS 


3 


We  stood  upright ,  but  we  fell  down  anon. 

Make  fast  the  base  you  raise  the  State  upon  ! 

A  bird  flew  lucky  when  you  blest  us  then  ; 

O  be  a  match  for  your  old  self  again  ! 

If  rule  the  land  you  must  as  reign  you  do, 

Rule  it  not  empty,  but  with  people  too  : 

For  neither  ship  nor  castle’s  worth  a  feather 
Devoid  of  men  to  dwell  therein  together. 

(Ed.  Poor  children  !  The  desire  that  brings  you  there 
Is  known,  no  secret  :  oh,  I’m  well  aware 
You  suffer  all,  and  suffering  as  you  do, 

I  suffer  more  than  any  one  of  you. 

Your  anguish  comes  on  one  sole  self  apart/10) 

On  each  but  not  on  other  ;  while  my  heart 
Bewails  the  State,  myself,  and  each  and  all. 

So  not  from  slumbering  indolence  at  all 
You  stirred  me  :  many  are  the  tears  I  poured, 
Many  the  devious  paths  of  thought  explored. 
One  cure  I’ve  tried — when  search  could  yield 
no  other, — 

Sent  Creon,  Menoeceus’  son,  my  own  wife’s 
brother, 

To  Phoebus’  Pythian  House  to  question  how 
My  act  or  word  may  rescue  all.  And  now 
The  day  already  with  the  time  compared 
Makes  me  uneasy  how  the  mission’s  fared  : 

He’s  too  long  gone,  past  reasonable  date. 

But  when  he  comes,  reproach  me  then — but 
wait — 

If  I  perform  not  all  the  God  dictate. 

[Creon  is  descried  approaching. 
Priest.  Why,  opportunely  said  !  They  signify 
To  me  this  instant  Creon  drawing  nigh. 


4 


SOPHOCLES 


O  Lord  Apollo  !  Saving  be  the  chance 
That  guides  his  foot — bright  news  to  suit  his 
glance  ! 

Ed.  Why,  at  a  guess,  he’s  as  we’d  have  him — nay, 
Else  he  would  never  come  with  berried  bay  ^ 
So  thickly  garlanded.  We  soon  shall  know — 
He’s  within  scale  of  earshot  now.  What  ho  ! 
Son  of  Menoeceus,  Prince,  my  kinsman,  say, 
What  news  d’you  bring  us  from  the  God  this  day? 


Enter  Creon  in  garb  of  pilgrimage ,  wearing  a  wreath 

of  bay  leaves. 

Cre.  Good  news.(12)  I  tell  you  dark  may  yet  be  bright 
Tho’  ne’er  so  dark,  if  all  come  out  aright. 

Ed.  But  what’s  the  text  ?  For  all  you  tell  us  here, 

I  see  no  cause  for  confidence  or  fear. 

Cre.  You’re  pleased  to  hear’t  in  these  men’s  neigh¬ 
bourhood  ? 

I’m  nothing  loth  ;  or  if  within  were  good — 

Ed.  Speak  before  all  !  Much  more  for  them  I  make, 
Mourning  than  ever  for  my  own  life’s  sake. 

Cre.  Let  me  proclaim  what  from  the  God  I  heard  : 
Lord  Phoebus  speaks,  with  no  ambiguous  word, 
Of  some  defilement,  bids  Drive  out  th ’  accurst 
Tour  land  has  bred ,  not  breed  it  for  the  worst. 

Ed.  With  cleansings  ?  Of  what  sort  ?  How  stands 
the  fact  ? 

Cre.  Scapegoats  to  make,  or  blood  for  blood  to  exact : 

’Tis  this  blood  stirs  the  storm  against  the  State. 
Ed.  Whose  should  it  be,  this  new-discovered  fate  ? 
Cre.  Sire,  we  had  once  a  Sovereign  in  this  land 
Called  Laios,  ere  we  felt  your  guiding  hand. 


KING  OEDIPUS 


5 

(Ed.  I  know  <13> — by  name,  tho’  not  by  sight,  I  own. 
Cre.  He  died  :  ’tis  for  his  death  this  clear  command 
Bids  us  requite  the  felons,  yet  unknown. 

(Ed.  Where  in  the  world  are  they  ?  Who  at  this  time 
Shall  hit  the  baffling  trail  of  ancient  crime  ? 

Cre.  He  said,  Within  the  country .  Seek  is  find  ; 

He  fails  to  catch  who  does  not  give  his  mind. 

(Ed.  At  home,  or  on  his  lands,  or  foreign  ground 
Was  Laios  when  this  bloody  fate  he  found  ? 

Cre.  Abroad,  supposed  on  pilgrimage.  From  when 
He  first  set  out,  he  came  no  more  again. 

(Ed.  And  never  word  ?  No  escort  there  to  view  ? 

No  sure  report  that  might  have  given  a  clue  ? 
Cre.  Why,  no — they  died  ;  save  one  who  ran  in  fright : 

One  thing  alone  he’d  tell  of  all  he  might. 

(Ed.  What’s  that  ?  One  thing  may  prove  the  key  to 
much  : 

Permit  us  but  the  fringe  of  hope  to  touch. 

Cre.  Robbers,  he  said,  no  force  of  one,  assailing, 

Slew  him  by  multitude  of  hands  prevailing. 

CEd.  How  could  this  robber, (14)  though,  so  far  aspire, 
Unless  by  dealings  in  this  place,  for  hire  ?<16) 

Cre.  Such  things  were  in  our  thoughts.  But  Lai'os 
gone, 

Hard  times  we  had  and  none  to  champion. 

(Ed.  Hard  times  ?  The  crown  thus  fallen,  what 
times  so  hard 

Stood  in  the  way  and  full  inquiry  barred  ? 

Cre.  The  Sphinx  it  was  whose  riddle-song  inclined  us 
To  look  to  ourselves  and  leave  such  doubts 
behind  us. 

(Ed.  No  !  From  the  start,  anew  I’ll  bring  to  light ! 
Rightly  did  Phoebus,  aye,  and  you  were  right 


6 


SOPHOCLES 


To  have  regard  for  his  behoof  so  dead. 

My  duty  leagues  me  with  you  :  on  his  head 
Of  God  and  Land  avenger  I’ll  appear. 

Not  in  the  cause  of  one  remotely  dear, 

But  in  my  own,  this  blot  will  I  dispel. 

Whoe’er  it  was,  may  choose  on  me  as  well, 
Matching  that  stroke,  to  wreak  his  cut-throat 
spite  ; 

My  battle,  when  I  take  his  part,  I  fight. 

My  sons,  make  haste,  from  the  altar  steps  begone 
Taking  your  votary  branches  ;  and  let  one 
Advise  the  nation  all  things  shall  be  done 
By  me.  For  with  God’s  help  we  will  prevail 
Before  the  eyes  of  all  the  world,  or  fail. 

Priest.  Let  us  arise,  my  sons ;  for  this  we  came, 

And  now  we  have  his  promise  to  the  same. 

May  Delphi’s  God,  who  sent  the  message  thence, 
Prove  Saviour  too  to  stay  this  pestilence  ! 


KING  CEDIPUS 


7 


Chorus 

(i  st  Turn.') 

Welcome,  O  Word  o’  the  Lord,  from  the  Pythian 
treasury  coming, 

What  news,  what  news  to  radiant  Thebes  ? 
Heartstrings  wrung  with  alarm,  to  the  dances  of  terror 
a-drumming, 

In  worship  I  wait  for  thee,  breathless - : 

Delian,  Healer,  all  hail  !  what  event  shall  the  hour  or 
the  cycle  of  seasons  hereafter 
Yield  to  me?  Tell  it,  O  heavenly  Rumour,  O 
daughter  of  Expectation,  O  deathless  ! 


(ir/  Counter-turn .) 

Deathless  Athena,  the  daughter  o’  Zeus,  in  a  hymn 
we  resound  thee 

The  first,  with  Her  that  guards  our  glebes  ! 

Artemis,  high-set  in  honour,  a  ring  o’  the  Market 
around  thee  ! 

And  Phoebus  !  Archer  !  appear  to  me  ! 

Succouring  Trinity,  come,  for  if  Evil  arose  i*  the  air, 
ye  were  mighty  to  waft  her 

Flame  fro’  the  border  away  :  ye  have  helped  of  old, 
yet  again  be  you  near  me  ! 


8 


SOPHOCLES 


(2nd  Turn.) 

Innumerable  agony  is  all  my  portion  ! 

O  misery  !  All  my  host  are  ailing  and  I  want  for  a 
blade  to  the  onset, 

Want  for  a  weapon  of  wit.  The  fertility 

No  longer  abounds  in  a  happy  dominion  ; 

From  shrill  birth  pangs — never  health,  but  a  death 
with  abortion. 

One  after  another,  lo !  they  are  seen  on  an  arrowy 
pinion 

Soar  as  a  flame  in  a  monstrous  agility 
Towards  coasts  behind  the  sunset. 


(2nd  Counter-turn.) 

Innumerably  wasted  nation  ! 

Progeny  pitiless,  against  the  ground,  death-dealing,  a 
litter  unheeded  ! 

Many  a  wife  and  a  grey-haired  mother 
Moans  loud  a  lament  by  the  side  o’  the  altars 
In  anguish  wearily,  votaries  one  with  another. 
Outflashes  Heal  us !  where  the  whine  of  a  litany  falters. 
Send  us,  Athena,  the  bitterly  needed 
Bright  mien  of  consolation  ! 


KING  CEDIPUS 


9 


(3 rd  Turn.) 

Ares,  the  monster  of  force,  who  now  without  the 
bronze  of  shields 

Clamorously  round  me  blazes,  make  to  race  his 
Headlong  retreat,  wellsped  to  leave  behind  our 
fields 

For  vasty  chambers  Amphitrite  hath  her  abode  in  under, 
Or  else  to  the  billow  of  Thrace’s 
Churlish  anchorages  ! 

For  whatso  Night  to  the  tale  remit, 

Day  comes  up  to  seize  on  it. 

Then  slay  thou  him,  O  Zeus,  O  Sire, 

Master  of  the  lightning’s  fire, 

Annihilate  in  a  volley  of  thy  thunder  ! 


(3 rd  Counter-turn.) 

O  Lycian  Lord,  let  us  behold  dauntless  arrows  dealt 
abroad 

From  bended  bow  with  gold  gut  entwined  upon  it, 
Ordained  for  our  deliv’rance,  and  the  fiery-shod 
Artemidean  gleams  wherewith  Lycian  hills  she  scours. 
And  I  call  to  the  Golden-Bonnet, 

(Thebes  his  heritage  is), 

Wine-visaged  Bacchus,  hailed  with  shouts, 
Comrade  in  the  Maenad  routs, 

To  draw  near  and  burn  away 
With  bright  auxiliar  flambeaux’  ray 
The  Power  in  Heaven  disowned  of  Heavenly  Powers  ! 


10  SOPHOCLES 

(Ed.  Praying  !  Your  prayer — if  but  my  words  you 
note 

To  treat  your  sickness  with  my  antidote, 

Help  and  alleviation  you  shall  win  : 

Which  words  I  now  make  public,  having  been 
Foreign  to  the  act  and  to  the  story  new 
(Else  I’d  not  hunted  far  and  found  no  clue), 
Among  you  burghers  all  a  burgher  late — 

I  make  this  proclamation  in  the  State. 

Whoso  of  you  knows  by  whose  hand  it  was 
That  Laios  perished,  son  of  Labdakos, 

I  charge  him  signify  the  whole  to  me. 

And  if  he  fears,  why  self-reproach  shall  be 
A  self-defence  forestalled  :  he  shall  but  leave 
The  land,  unscathed,  nor  any  hurt  receive. 

Also  if  any  knows  the  assassin  came 

From  foreign  country,  let  him  speak  and  claim 

His  money  and  his  meed  of  thanks  as  well. 

If  speak  you  will  not — should  a  man  repel 
Confession  for  his  friend  or  self,  in  fear  ; 

What  I’ll  do  then,  of  me  you  next  shall  hear. 
That  man,  whoe’er  he  be,  in  all  this  land 
Where  I  hold  sway  and  empire,  I  command 
That  none  shall  lodge,  nor  speak  with  him,  nor  share 
With  him  in  sacrifice  to  Gods,  or  prayer ; 

Nor  to  the  Washing  of  the  Hands (16)  admit ; 

But  from  their  houses  thrust  The  Curse — to  wit, 
This  man  of  blood :  for  so  the  Pythian  Chair 
Of  revelation  did  of  late  declare. 

Such  then  my  part,  so  mighty  an  ally 
Of  God  and  of  the  murdered  man  am  I. 

And  may  the  man  who  did  it,  the  Unknown, 
Skulking,  with  more  to  help  him,  or  alone, 


KING  CEDIPUS 


ii 


Grind  out  his  sinful  days  in  the  curse  of  sin. 
Once  more  I  pray  :  if  he  be  found  within 
My  home,  beside  my  hearth,  with  my  consent, 
Then  with  this  very  curse  may  I  be  shent ! 

All  this  I  charge  on  you  to  undertake 
For  my  sake,  and  the  Gods’  sake,  and  the  sake 
Of  this  sad,  God-forsaken,  famished  land. 

For  though  it  had  not  come  by  God’s  command, 
You  ought  not  so  to  have  left  this  thing  un purged 
— A  good  man  murdered  and  a  King ! — but  urged 
Inquiry.  Therefore  seeing  it  is  I 
Hold  sovereignty  where  once  he  held,  and  lie 
Where  once  he  lay  ;  one  wife  to  both  bore  seed — 
Our  children  had  been  brothers  too  to  breed 
A  brotherhood  betwixt  us  (had  his  heirs 
Not  come  to  grief,  but  Destiny  unawares 
Swooped  down  upon  his  head)  :  I  will  contend 
For  him,(17)  as  for  my  father,  to  the  end, 

For  all  these  causes.  Naught  shall  baulk  my  will 
To  find  the  men  who  raised  a  hand  to  kill 
The  son  of  Labdakos,  and  Polydore, 

Old  Cadmus,  and  Agenor,  King  of  yore. 

And  may  the  Gods  to  all  who  do  not  so, 
Render  no  increase  of  their  acres,  no 
Fruit  of  their  wives  ;  but  let  them  be  infested 
With  plagues  as  now,  and  plagues  yet  more 
detested. 

Cadmeans,  who  say  me  Ay ,  the  Right  befriend 
you, 

And  all  the  Gods  for  evermore  attend  you ! 

L .  of  Ch.  As  caught  in  the  curse,  I  will  in  conscience 
say, 

Sire,  that  I  slew  him  not,  and  cannot  lay 


12 


SOPHOCLES 


My  finger  on  the  assassin  :  Phoebus  best 
Could  tell  us  who  it  is — he  sent  the  quest. 

Ed.  ’Tis  rightly  said,  but  none  with  words  like  these 
Can  force  the  Gods  to  what  they  do  not  please. 
Gho.  Then  I  could  say  what  seems  the  second  best — 
Ed.  Wer’t  even  a  third,  yet  spare  not  to  suggest. 
Cho.  None  sees  so  eye  to  eye  with  Phoebus  as 
— Master  with  master — great  Teiresias  : 

To  ask  of  him  were  not  to  learn  amiss. 

Ed.  Why,  neither  had  I  disregarded  this. 

I  sent,  at  Creon’s  word,  two  emissaries  ; 

And  all  this  while  I  wonder  how  he  tarries. 

Cho.  Aye,  all  beside’s  dull  gossip,  long  since  heard. 
Ed.  What’s  that  ?  I  keep  an  eye  on  every  word. 

Cho.  Travellers  killed  him — so  the  story  went. 

Ed.  Hearsay  !  Who’s  seen  eyewitness  to  the  event  ? 
Cho.  Well  doubtless  if  he  has  his  share  in  fear, 

This  curse  of  yours  he’ll  not  endure  to  hear. 

Ed.  Words  will  not  fright  who  did  not  fear  the  deed. 
Cho.  Y et  there  is  one  to  unmask  him !  Look,  they  lead 
The  saintly  prophet  hither,  in  whose  mind 
Truth  dwells  inbred  alone  of  all  mankind. 

Enter  Teiresias,  led  by  a  serving-boy. 

Ed.  Dealer  in  all  known  arts  and  arts  profound, 

Truths  in  the  sky  and  truth  that  walks  the 
ground ; 

Altho’  you  cannot  see,  you  understand 
The  pestilence  that  lies  upon  the  land. 

Master  !  Her  only  help  and  stay  we  hold  you. 
Phoebus — perhaps  the  messengers  have  told 
you  ? — 


KING  CEDIPUS 


Sent  answer  to  the  question  that  we  sent, 

One  thing  alone  can  make  this  plague  relent , 

If  Lazos’  slayers  we  could  ascertain  ; 

They  be  despatched  to  banishment ,  or  slain. 

Your  hints  of  augury  do  not  now  refuse, 

Nor  any  other  means  diviners  use. 

Rescue  yourself,  your  country,  rescue  me  ! 
Rescue  for  all  our  blood-pollution  be  ! 

We’re  in  your  hand :  no  nobler  task  for  man 
Than  doing  good  by  all  the  means  he  can  ! 

Tei.  Well,  well! 

It  is  an  awful  thing  to  have  the  light 

When  light  pays  not.  And  though  I  grasped  ittight 

I  let  that  slip  me  !  Better  not  have  come. 

(Ed.  Heigh,  what  can  make  your  comings-in  so  glum  ? 
Tei.  Let  me  go  home  !  So  you  and  I  alone 

Shall  each  go  through  the  easier  with  his  own. 
(Ed.  This  is  an  answer  neither  kind  nor  right 

By  Thebes  that  bred  you — to  refuse  your  light. 
Tei.  Truth  flies  away  from  lips  that  try  to  breathe  her, 
Like  yours.  No  speaking  is  no  blundering  either. 
(Ed.  If  you  have  light,  I  charge  you  let  us  see’t : 

We  all  adore  you  suppliant  at  your  feet. 

Tei.  Yes,  for  you  have  it  not.  I’ll  not  proclaim 
My  secret  that  I  may  not  blab  your  shame. 

(Ed.  What’s  that?  You  know,  and  will  not  tell? 
You  plan 

To  wreck  the  State,  betray  us  every  man  ? 

Tei.  I  wish  to  spare  myself,  and  spare  you,  pain. 

Why  probe  me  idly  ?  You  shall  ask  in  vain. 
(Ed.  Arch  villain  !  Such  a  man  as  you  would  pique 
A  very  stone  to  rage — you  will  not  speak  ? 
Impassive  and  impracticable  as  ever  ? 


14 

Tei. 


SOPHOCLES 


You  chide  my  temper  ?d8)  Look  at  home:  you 
never 

Have  seen  what’s  there — but  I  must  be  reproved! 
(Ed .  W ell,  who  could  hear  you  speak  and  not  be  moved 
To  anger,  that  you  flout  your  country  so  ? 

Tel  ’Twill  come,  whether  I  keep  it  dark  or  no. 

(Ed.  If  come  it  must,  then  tell  me  :  ’tis  my  right. 

Tel  I’ll  speak  no  further  :  you  may  vent  your  spite  ; 

Give  if  you  like  your  wildest  anger  play  ! 

Ed.  I’ll  out  with  all  my  anger  bids  me  say. 

I  see  it  all !  I  tell  you,  I  believe 
This  plot’s  your  planting — you  were  chief  to 
achieve 

Save  but  in  th’  act  of  killing  ;  had  you  sight 
I’d  call  it  yours  and  yours  alone  outright  ! 

Tel  Is  it  so  ?  I  hereby  hold  you  to  obey 

Your  proclamation — never  from  this  day 
To  speak  a  word  to  these  or  me  :  ’tis  you, 

The  sinner  whom  the  tainted  Thebans  rue  ! 

Ed.  Such  insolence  !  You  startle  a  sudden  shape 

Of  words  from  covert,  and  you  think  to  escape  ? 
Tel  I  stand  escaped.  My  strength  is  in  the  truth. 
Ed .  Who  put  that  in  your  mouth  ?  The  Craft 
forsooth  ? 

Tel  You.  I  was  loth,  until  you  made  me  tell. 

Ed.  What  tale  ?  Repeat  :  I  wish  to  learn  it  well. 
Tei.  Did  you  not  take  me,  or  is  this  a  lure  ? 

Ed.  Repeat :  I  did  not  understand  for  sure. 

Tei.  You  murdered  him  whose  murderer  you  seek. 
Ed.  Not  twice  such  crimes  unpunished  shall  youspeak ! 
Tel  Oh  !  shall  I  tell  you  more,  for  more  provoking  ? 
Ed.  Yes,  all  you  will  !  It  weighs  no  more  than 
joking. 


KING  CEDIPUS 


15 


Tei.  You  stand  most  foully  to  your  kith  and  kin 
Unknown  :  you  see  not  where  you  are  in  sin. 
Ed.  Say  on,  say  on — but  you  shall  smart  at  length  ! 
Tei.  Not  if  so  be  the  truth  has  any  strength. 

(Ed.  Y es,  save  for  you  ;  but  not  for  you — and  why  ? 

You’re  blind  alike  in  ear  and  mind  and  eye. 

Tei .  I  pity  you  for  that  reproach,  for  who 
Will  not  retort  it  presently  on  you  ? 

Ed.  Since  Night  is  all  the  nurse  you  have  to  rear  you, 
Nor  I  nor  any  who  sees  the  light,  need  fear  you. 
Tei.  True  :  it  is  not  your  fate  by  me  to  fall. 

Apollo  is  enough.  He’ll  work  it  all. 

Ed.  Are  these  inventions  Creon’s  or  your  own  ? (19) 
Tei.  He’s  not  your  bane,  but  you  yourself  alone. 

Ed.  O  Wealth,  and  Kingship,  art  supreme  in  art/20) 
What  envy  do  you  treasure  against  the  part 
Men  covet  so  to  play  !  For  just  this  power, 
Which  Thebes  unasked,  a  nation’s  proffered 
dower, 

Put  in  my  hands,  this  friend  of  long  ago, 

This  trusty  Creon  seeks  my  overthrow — 

Steals  marches  on  me,  hires  yon  charlatan 
Stitch-plot,  a  rogue  o’  the  wayside  preacher 
clan,(21) 

Blind  in  the  art,  sharp-eyed  in  gains  alone  ! 
When — tell  me — was  your  prophet’s  title 
shewn  ? 

Where  was  your  word  of  liberation  which 
Should  rid  us  of  the  Balladmonger  Bitch  ?(22) 

Ah  !  ’Twas  not  every  passer-by  could  read 
Aright  that  riddle,  mind  you  !  Here  was  need 
Of  inspiration  :  nothing  proved  your  claim 
To  be  inspired  of  birds  or  Gods.  I  came, 


i6 


SOPHOCLES 


CEdipus,  knowing  nothing,  and  succeeded 
By  stroke  of  wit — no  lore  of  birds  I  needed  ! 

See  who  it  is  whose  overthrow  you  plan, 

And  think  to  stand  King  Creon’s  righthand  man  ! 
I  think  that  you  and  he  who  framed  the  attempt, 
Shall  find  such  scapegoats  as  you  little  dreamt  ! 
But  for  the  doting  eld  I  see  in  you, 

You  should  have  learned  the  taste  of  what  you 
brew  ! 

L.  of  Cho.  If  we  may  judge,  his  words  and  yours  no 
less 

Are  spoken,  CEdipus,  in  bitterness  : 

Not  such  we  want,  but  how  to  read  the  mind 
Of  God’s  response — ’tis  that  we  have  to  find. 
Tei.  King  tho’  you  be,  one  charter  of  speech  unites 
The  lord  and  liege :  there  I’ve  my  sovereign 


rights. 

My  life’s  not  slave  to  you,<23)  but  Loxias’  word. 
Not  Creon’s  creature  I’ll  be  registered. 

I’m  blind  :  you  found  yet  one  more  taunt 
therein. 

You’ve  sight,  and  see  not  where  you  are  in  sin, 
Nor  where  you  dwell,  nor  whom  you  have  to  mate. 
Of  whom  are  you  ?  You  know  not ;  and  the  hate 
Of  yours  in  death,  and  yours  on  earth  in  life — 
You  little  guess  it  : — like  a  two-edged  knife, 
Mother’s  and  father’s  grim  pursuing  ban 
Shall  drive  you  far  from  here,  an  outlawed  man  ; 
When  eyes  now  strong  have  darkness  for  their 
beam, 

Then  where  will  not  be  haven  to  your  scream  ? 
And  what  Cithaeron  will  not  ring,  when  soon 
You  catch  the  burden  of  the  nuptial  tune 


KING  CEDIPUS 


l7 

Which  played  you  homeward  bound,  full  sail,  to 
wreck  ? 

Of  many  horrors  little  now  you  reck 

Which  self  with  self  and  self  with  sons  combine. 

So  now  on  Creon  and  these  lips  of  mine 
Heap  your  reproaches.  When  the  day  shall 
come 

No  man  alive  shall  match  your  martyrdom. 

CEd.  This,  and  from  him  !  And  must  I  tolerate  ? 

Damnation  catch  you  quick  !  From  out  my 
gate 

Get  you  gone  home,  return  your  road,  and  rid  me  ! 
Tei.  I  never  would  have  come,  had  you  not  bid  me. 
CEd.  Could  I  foresee  your  foolish  talking,  eh  ? 

Long  might  you  wait  for  word  to  pass  my  way  ! 
Tei .  Such  is  my  sort  :  a  fool  in  your  esteem, 

Tho’  to  your  parents  wise  I  used  to  seem. 

CEd.  Parents  ?  Hold  !  Who  of  mortals  got  me — 
who  ? 

Tei.  This  day  shall  prove  your  birth  and  ruin  too. 
CEd.  Ever  this  over-riddling  phrase  obscure  ! 

Tei.  Such  you  excel  at  solving,  to  be  sure. 

CEd.  Taunt  as  you  will,  ’tis  there  you’ll  find  me 
great. 

Tei .  Yet,  from  your  luck  in  that  your  troubles  date. 
CEd.  It  saved  the  land,  I  cannot  count  it  bad. 

Tei .  Well,  I’ll  be  going  :  fetch  me  home,  my  lad. 
CEd.  Fetch  you  he  shall  !  Annoy  and  hindrance  your 
Presence  has  been ;  sped, you’ll  not  tease  me  more. 
Tei.  I  will  begone,  but  speak  my  errand  first, 

Nor  fear  your  face :  you  cannot — do  your  worst — 
Kill  me.  I  tell  you  he  whom  all  this  time, 
With  threats  and  proclamations  of  the  crime, 

B 


i8 


SOPHOCLES 


You  seek, — he’s  in  this  place  :  a  man  who’s 
passed 

For  foreign,  but  shall  be  declared  at  last 
Theban  true-born  ;  and  little  cause  shall  find 
To  bless  his  luck.  Seeing  no  more,  but  blind  ; 
Instead  of  rich — a  beggar,  he  shall  range, 

A  stick  to  mark  his  steps,  where  all  is  strange. 

He  shall  be  found  own  brother  to  his  own 
Sons,  and  their  father ;  husband  he  shall  be 
shewn 

And  son  of  her  who  bore  him — a  father’s  wife 
Served  for  the  son  who  took  his  father’s  life. 

Go,  think  on  that  !  And  if  in  aught  you  find 
Me  false,  deny  me  the  prophetic  mind. 

[Exit,  led. 


KING  CEDIPUS 


i9 


Chorus. 


(1st  Turn.) 

O  who’s  the  man 

The  Delphian  Rock  proclaims,  the  Rock  sooth¬ 
saying, 

Of  crimes  dared  plan 

Most  bloody-handed  crime  of  that  manslaying  ? 
’Tis  time  that  he  ply  his  pace 
More  lustily  e’en  than  race 
The  coursers  of  Hurricane  ! 

For,  with  lightnings  to  don  him 

And  mailed  in  fire, 
Cometh  leaping  upon  him 

The  Son  of  the  Sire  :  (24> 
And  Keres  unerring  follow  ever  anear  his  train  ! 


(ij/  Counter-turn.) 

From  new-revealed 

Voice  where  a  crest  of  snow  Parnassus  raises, 
In  every  field 

Track  ye  the  nameless  man  the  message  blazes. 
For  wild  in  the  woods  he  roams, 

In  antres  alone  he  homes, 

A  bull  on  a  lonely  scaur.(25) 

Very  woeful  and  moping 

In  woeful  walk, 

Dooms  dog  him,  yet  hoping 

The  Dooms  he  shall  baulk : 
Alive  from  the  Navel-shrine  they  flit  on  him 
evermore ! 


20 


SOPHOCLES 


( 2nd  Turn.)W 

Grim  in  the  heart 
Grim  is  the  doubt ; 

Augural  art 
Puts  me  about. 

Not  to  believe 
Nor  to  deny  : 

How  to  receive 
Helpless  am  I  ! 

Up  in  air 

Flown  with  surmise 
Present  nor  past 
I  realise. 

Was  it  feud — Poly  bus’  son 
And  Labdakidai  ? 

Nay  at  the  time 
News  had  I  none, 

No  nor  have  I 

E’en  at  this  season 
Any  proof  wherewithal 
Tried  as  a  test, 

I  for  the  clan 
Of  the  Labdakidai 

Shall  attack  such  a  man 
(All  love  him  best !) 

At  the  call  of  an  untraceable  crime 


KING  CEDIPUS 


2r 


( 2nd  Counter-turn .) 

One  thing  I  know  : 

Zeus,  he  is  wise, 

Phoebus  also  ; 

All’s  to  their  eyes 
Open  on  earth. 

Seers  are  but  men. 

My  ken  is  worth 
Less  than  his  ken  ? 

Why  of  that 
Proof  there  is  none 
Sure.  For  a  hit 
One  may  outrun 
As  a  man  t’other  in  wit : 

Tho’  I’ll  never  say 
Ayy  ay  to  it, 

Chide  tho’  they  may, 

I  will  abide 

Story  and  reason. 

We  did  see,  we  did  prove : 

There  was  the  maid 
On  a  day,  with  her  wings. 

Then,  when  all  eyed, 

Tried  wit  of  the  King’s 
Gained  him  our  love. 

Felon  ?  here  is  a  heart,  still  shall  acquit 


22 


SOPHOCLES 


Enter  Creon. 

Cre.  Sirs,  countrymen,  a  great  complaint  I  bring. 
Grim  charges,  say  they,  CEdipus  the  King 
Lays  at  my  door.  The  time’swith  trouble  fraught, 
And  if  he  thinks  that  I  have  done  him  aught 
By  act  or  word  to  work  him  prejudice, 

I  care  not,  carrying  such  reproach  as  this, 

For  length  of  life.  The  damage  of  his  charge 
Tends  not  to  single  reference,  but  large 
And  general — traitor  to  the  State  proclaimed, 
Traitor  by  you  and  those  I  care  for,  named. 

L.  of  Cho.  Ah,  but  perhaps  to  this  reproach  gave  vent 
The  pinch  of  passion,  not  the  heart’s  intent. 

Cre .  The  word’s  abroad,  by  my  intent  the  seer 
Spoke,  and  the  thing  he  spoke  was  insincere. 

L.  of  Cho.  That  was  the  phrase,  but  the  intent  not 
clear. 

Cre.  Tell  me,  this  accusation  was  it  let 

Fly  from  straight  eyes  and  from  a  heart  straight- 
set  ? 

L .  of  Cho .  Ah  !  I’ve  no  eyes  for  what  my  betters  do. 
Look !  from  the  house  he  comes  himself  in  view. 


Enter  CEdipus. 

(Ed.  You,  fellow  !  How  came  you  here  ?  You  have 
such  face 

Of  impudence  you  seek  my  dwelling-place, 
When  yours,  confest,  is  the  hand  that  struck  him 
down, 

And  you  the  redhanded  robber  of  my  crown  ! 


KING  CEDIPUS 


23 


In  God’s  name,  say,  was’t  folly  and  cowardice 
You  saw  in  me  could  egg  you  on  to  this  ? 

I  should  not  see  your  stealthy,  crawling  plot  ? 

— And  if  I  did  detect,  resist  it  not  ? 

The  folly  lies  in  your  attempt — with  you 
To  go  a-kingdom-hunting,  poor  and  few  : 

To  bag  such  game  needs  men  and  money  too. 
Cre.  D’you  know  what  you  must  do  ?  Hear  word  for 
word 

My  answer  fair,  and  judge  when  you  have  heard. 
CEd.  You’re  sharp  to  speak,  but  I  to  hear  am  slow 
From  you,  my  bitter  ascertained  foe. 

Cre.  Just  that  one  thing  you’ll  hear  me  now  refute. 
CEd.  Just  one  name,  villain  !  you  will  not  dispute. 
Cre.  ’Struth  !  If  you  reckon  stubbornness  is  prized 
Apart  from  sense,  you  are  not  well  advised. 

CEd.  ’Struth  !  If  you  reckon  that  you  shall  not  rue 
Wrong  done  to  kinsmen,  ill-advised  are  you  ! 
Cre.  I  cry  you  Aye  to  the  justice  of  that  word  : 

Explain  what  wrong  by  fault  of  mine’s  incurred. 
CEd.  Were  you  or  were  you  not,  in  sending  for 
That  solemn  fool  the  Seer, — my  counsellor  ? 

Cre.  And  I  am  still  the  same,  and  minded  thus. 

CEd.  How  long  ago  is’t  now  since  Lai'os - ? 

Cre.  Did  what  ?  I  do  not  know  of  what  you  spoke. 
CEd.  Obscurely  perished  by  a  mortal  stroke  ? 

Cre.  ’Twere  long  and  ancient  dates  to  measure  when. 
CEd.  Ha  !  Was  this  prophet  in  the  business  then  ? 
Cre.  Yes,  wise  as  now,  nor  less  esteemed  was  he. 

CEd.  Then  at  the  moment,  did  he  mention  me  ? 

Cre.  Never — or  never  in  my  neighbourhood. 

CEd.  Made  you  no  inquisition  then  for  blood  ? 

Cre.  We  did,  most  surely  :  and  without  avail. 


24 


SOPHOCLES 


Ed.  Why  did  our  sage  not  then  proclaim  his  tale  ? 
Cre.  I  know  not :  uninformed,  I  do  not  prate. 

Ed.  One  thing  you  know,  and  well-informed  could 
state. 

Cre.  What  ?  If  reply  I  can  I’ll  not  decline. 

Ed.  That,  never,  did  not  you  with  him  combine, 

He  would  have  named  this  Lai'os’  murder  mine. 
Cre.  Yourself  you  best  know  if  he  so  did  name  it. 

Your  right  of  question,  I  myself  now  claim  it. 
Ed.  Question  away  !  No  murderer  I’ll  be  seen. 

Cre.  Say,  then  :  you  have  my  sister  for  your  queen  ? 
Ed.  That  question  will  admit  no  answer  Nay. 

Cre.  Your  rule  is  one  with  hers,  an  equal  sway? 

Ed.  She  gets  whatever  she  desires  of  me. 

Cre.  And  I  am  equalised,  to  make  you  three  ? 

Ed.  Yes,  ’tis  in  that  you  manifest  your  treason. 

Cre.  No — if  as  I  do,  with  yourself  you’d  reason. 

Now  first  consider  this  :  Who’d  choose  to  reign 
— Think  you — with  terrors  rather  for  his  train 
Than  drowsy  and  secure,  with  powers  the  same  ? 
King  in  my  acts,  to  be  a  King  in  name — 

My  nature  never  lusted  after  it, 

And  no  man  else  who  keeps  a  sober  wit. 
Without  alarm,  I’ve  all  my  will  from  you ; 
King,  I’d  have  much  against  my  will  to  do  : 
How  could  a  throne  be  sweeter  to  possess 
Than  sovereignty  and  rule  without  distress  ? 

I’m  not  yet  so  beguiled  as  to  be  fain 
Of  glory  saving  what  consists  with  gain. 

I’ve  every  man’s  Good-day,  they  all  salute, 

Your  suitors  ask  for  me  to  push  their  suit, 

For  all  success  for  them  comes  only  so. 

Shall  I,  to  gain  that  other,  let  this  go  ? 


KING  CEDIPUS 


25 


No  sober  sense  will  e’er  disloyal  prove  ; 

With  such  designs  I’m  not  myself  in  love, 

Nor  would  I  follow  did  another  move. 

Proof  of  my  words,  go  first  to  Pytho,  learn 
Whether  a  message  true  I  did  return  ; 

Next,  if  you  prove  that  there  was  any  plot 
’Twixt  me  and  the  soothsayer,  kill  me,  not 
By  one  vote,  but  by  two,  both  yours  and  mine  ; 
On  blind  surmise — no  more — do  not  malign. 

It  is  no  justice  lightly  to  conclude 
A  good  man  bad,  nor  yet  a  bad  man  good. 

To  lose  an  honest  friend  I  count  as  bad 
As  if  one  lost  the  dearest  thing  he  had, 

The  life  lodged  in  his  bosom.  Time  alone 
Declares  the  just :  in  time  shall  all  be  shewn, 
But  villains  in  a  single  day  are  known. 

L.  of  Cho.  Well  said — to  one  that’s  wary  of  a  slip  : 

Quick  thinking  is  a  path  where  many  trip. 

Ed.  Quick  steals  the  plotter  upon  me  :  must  I  not 
Be  quick  to  parry  with  my  counterplot  ? 

If  I  must  bide  his  time — the  end  is  this, 

His  game  is  won  and  mine  is  all  amiss. 

Cre.  What  would  you  have  ?  Will  you  exile  me 
then  ? 

(Ed.  No,  no  :  I  must  have  dead,  not  banished,  men. 
Cre.  Not  ere  you  shew  the  quality  of  your  spite  ! 

(Ed.  You  speak  defiant,  unsubmissive  quite. 

Cre.  You  want  your  sober  sense. 

(Ed.  I  see  so  far. 

Cre.  Farther  I’d  have  you  ! 

(Ed.  Villain  that  you  are ! 

Cre.  You  do  not  understand. 

(Ed.  I’ll  keep  my  crown  ! 


26 


SOPHOCLES 


Cre.  And  wear  it  in  misuse  ? 

Ed.  My  town,  my  town  ! 

Cre.  I  too  have  part  in  Thebes,  not  only  you. 

L .  of  Ch.  Hold,  princes.  In  good  time  comes  here  to 
view 

Jocasta  from  the  doors. 

With  her  you  must 
Your  present  quarrel  happily  adjust. 

Enter  Jocasta  from  the  Palace. 

Joe.  Unhappy  men,  what  ailed  you  to  proclaim 

These  factions  of  the  tongue  ?  Have  you  no 
shame, 

The  land  thus  plagued,  to  start  new  woes  of 
yours  ? 

[To  CEdipus. 

I  pray  you,  home  :  and  Creon,  within  doors, 
And  do  not  aggravate  a  grief  so  null. 

Cre.  Sister,  your  husband  claims  the  right  to  cull 
And  wreak  on  me  a  choice  of  monstrous  ill 
— To  thrust  me  from  my  country,  or  take  and  kill. 
Ed.  I  say  him  Ay  ;  for  I  have  found  him  use 
Foul  fraud  my  person  foully  to  abuse. 

Cre.  Curses  for  blessings,  self-invoked,  I  choose, 

If  e’er  I  did  at  all  as  you  accuse. 

Joe.  Oh,  in  the  name  of  God,  accept  his  word — 

His  oath  !  For  God’s  sake  (that  is  first  preferred), 
But  my  sake  too,  and  these  your  friends  who’ve 
heard ! 


KING  GEDIPUS 


27 


Trio:  CE dipus,  Jocasta,  Chorus. 

(irt  Turn.) 

Cho.  Sire,  hear  me  preach 

Admonishment ! 

O  relent, 

I  beseech  ! 

(Ed.  What  is’t  you  beg  me  to  concede  ? 

Cho.  Respect  him,  both 

No  fool  before, 

And  all  the  more 
Mighty  now  he  takes  the  oath  ! 

(Ed.  This  plea  .  .  .  you  mean  ? 

Cho.  I  do ! 

(Ed.  Say  !  what  indeed  ? 

Cho.  Friend  that  accepts  a  curse, 

Never  in  disregard 
Fling  when  the  cause  is  hard 
To  read,  better  or  worse  ! 

CEd.  Rest  well  assured,  in  pleading  so  you  need 
My  ruin  or  my  banishment  to  plead. 

( 2nd  Turn.) 

V  the  Sun’s  name,  his 

That’s  prince  among  divinities, 

No  !  God  forsaken,  forsaken  of  every  friend — 

If  such  be  my  purpose — 

Dire  prove  my  end  ! 

But  my  poor  heart  is  sore  for  my  country 

So  waste  and  vext : 

Sore  to  think  that,  bad  to  bad, 

She  needs  must  next 
This  your  quarrel  superadd. 


(Ed.  Then  ev’n  if  I  must  absolutely  die, 

Or  else  be  flung  from  home  in  contumely — 
Yet  let  him  go  ! — altho’  your  lips,  not  his, 
Move  me,  detested  foe  where’er  he  is  ! 


SOPHOCLES 


28 


Cre.  A  churlish  grace  in  yielding,  and  a  sore 

Heart  when  you  leave  your  angry  fit :  none  more 
Than  their  own  selves  such  characters  deplore. 
Ed.  Then  go,  and  leave  me  ! 

Cre.  I  will,  misunderstood 

By  you,  but  in  their  eyes  my  right  is  good. 

-  [Exit. 


(l5^  Counter -turn?) 

Cho.  Why  more  delay, 

Lady  ?  Bring 
Home  the  King  ! 

Lead,  away  ! 

Joe.  I  first  will  hear  the  circumstance. 

Cho.  Imaginings ! 

Tales  misconceived  ! 

A  spirit  grieved 

By  the  sense  of  wrong  that  stings. 

Joe.  From  both  ? 

Cho.  Oh  yes  ! 

Joe.  What  rumour  so  did  chance  ? 

Cho.  Enough  for  me  at  least — 

Is  not  the  land  in  pain  ? — 

To  let  it  there  remain 
At  rest  where  it  ceased  ! 

(Ed.  See  where  you  stand  !  For  all  your  sound  intent, 
You  fail  my  cause,  your  loyal  edge  is  bent ! 


( 2nd  Counter -turn?) 

Cho.  Not  once  alone, 

I’ve  said  it,  Sire,  and  be  it  known  : 
Lunatic  were  I  utterly  if  I  parted  from  thee, 

A  bankrupt  in  reason, 

All  men  could  see  ! 
When  my  dear  country  labour’d  in  trouble, 

Nigh  founder’d  quite, 

Thou  didst  waft  her  home  to  shore  : 

O  that  thou  might 

Prove  our  saving  convoy  now  once  more  ! 


KING  GEDIPUS 


29 


Joe.  Tell  me ,  my  King,  in  God’s  name,  tell  me  too 
What  made  so  vast  an  anger  rise  in  you  ? 

(Ed.  I’ll  tell  you.  Madam,  I  prize  you  more  than  them. 

’Tis  Creon  :  his  disloyal  stratagem. 

Joe.  Speak !  Can  you  not  explain  your  grievance 
further  ? 

Ed.  He  calls  me  guilty  of  King  La'fos’  murder. 

Joe.  Of  his  own  cognisance  or  by  hearsay  ? 

Ed.  Oh  no  !  he  sends  a  prophet  rogue  this  way  : 

And  keeps  his  own  lips  wholly  out  of  play. 

Joe.  Now  take  yourself  away  from  what  you’ve  said  : 
Listen  to  me,  and  learn  of  me  instead. 

No  flesh  and  blood  the  prophet’s  gift  can  share  ; 
A  proof  of  that  I  briefly  will  declare. 

Word  came  to  Lai'os — nobody  avers 
From  Phoebus’  self,  but  from  his  ministers, — 
Such  child  as  might  be  born  to  him  and  me 
Should  take  his  life  :  such  was  his  doom  to  be. 
Well,  him  for  his  part,  common  rumour  says, 
Strange  robbers  murdered  at  the  Three  Cross- 
ways. 

The  child,  not  three  days  from  his  birth  yet  run, 
He  pitched,  first  fastening  his  two  feet  in  one, 
(By  hand  of  others)  on  a  lonely  hill. 

Now  neither  did  Apollo  here  fulfil 
His  doom  to  slay  his  father,  nor  the  grim 
Fate  Lai'os  dreaded — to  be  slain  by  him. 

See  how  these  prophet-voices  mapped  it  out  ! 
Regard  them  not :  what  God  will  bring  about, 
Discovered  due,  such  aids  he’ll  work  without. 
Ed.  What  did  I  hear  just  now,  my  wife,  to  start 
This  reeling  spirit  in  me — this  heaving  heart. 


3o  SOPHOCLES 

Joe .  Why  talk  you  so  ?  What  anxious  thought  can  ail  ? 
Ed.  Lai'os — yes,  I  think  I  caught  the  phrase, 

Was  murdered  at  a  place  of  Three  Crossways. 
Joe.  Yes,  so  they  said  :  and  so  still  runs  the  tale. 

(Ed,  And  where’s  the  spot  where  fell  this  cruel  case  ? 
Joe,  The  land’s  called  Phocis:  at  forked  highways  run 
The  Delphi  and  the  Daulia  road  in  one. 

Ed.  What  length  of  time’s  expired  since  this  took  place  ? 
Joe.  Little  before  the  time  you  rose  to  sit 

Upon  this  throne,  the  crier  published  it. 

CEd .  O  Zeus,  what  dost  thou  mean  to  do  with  me  ? 
Joe.  What  cause  for  care,  CEdipus,  here  can  be  ? 

CEd.  Ask  me  not  yet.  Describe  the  man,  his  air, 

The  flower  of  what  life-season  did  he  wear  ? 

Joe.  Tall  :  first  white  bloom  began  his  hair  to  strew. 

In  looks  not  greatly  different  from  you. 

(Ed.  Ah,  wretch  !  I  ran  myself  an  hour  ago 
Into  a  grim  curse,  and  I  did  not  know  ! 

Joe.  What’s  that  ?  My  King,  I  gaze  at  you  and  start. 
Ed.  O  grim  misgiving  !  If  the  seer  can  see  ! 

Say  one  thing  yet,  ’twill  more  enlighten  me. 

Joe.  I  start.  Yet  ask  ;  I’ll  do  my  best  to  impart. 

Ed.  Whether  he  travelled  few,  or  half  a  mile 
Of  men-at-arms  for  train,  in  royal  style  ? 

Joe.  But  five  in  all :  a  herald,  one — at  that ; 

And  in  the  only  carriage  Lai’os  sat. 

Ed.  Good  God  !  By  now  ’tis  plain  as  day.  But  who 
Came  here  to  tell  the  tale,  my  wife,  to  you  ? 

Joe.  A  slave,  the  sole  survivor  of  the  band. 

Ed.  Is  he  by  chance  now  present  and  to  hand  ? 

Joe.  Oh  no  !  For  when,  returned  from  there,  he 
found 

Lai'os  dead  and  you  successor  crowned, 


KING  GEDIPUS 


3i 


He  clasped  my  hand,  beseeching  me  to  send 
Him  out  afield,  the  flocks  of  sheep  to  tend, 
Farthest  removed  from  town  and  out  of  sight ; 

I  sent  him,  for  if  slaves  have  rights,  he  might 
Call  even  greater  boon  than  that,  his  right. 

(Ed.  How  can  we  forthwith  get  him  back  again  ? 

Joe.  Quite  well.  But  what  do  you  expect  to  gain  ? 

(Ed.  I  fear  myself,  wife — and  a  tongue  that  ran 
Too  fast :  that’s  why  I  want  to  see  the  man. 

Joe.  And  come  he  shall  :  but,  surely,  I  have  too 

The  right,  my  King,  to  hear  what  ails  with  you  ? 

(Ed.  I  never  will  deny  you  :  now  my  guess 

Has  pushed  so  far.  In  such  a  strange  distress, 
To  whom  more  natural  could  I  confess  ? 

Corinthian  Polybus  my  father  was, 

By  Dorian  Merope.  I  used  to  pass 
For  chief  among  the  burghers  of  the  place 
Until  a  certain  thing  befel.  The  case 
Was  worth  surprise,  not  worth  grave  thought 
of  mine. 

A  man  o’ercharged  with  liquor  over  the  wine 
At  supper  called  me  feigned  my  father’s  son. 

And  I  was  sore,  but  till  that  day  was  done 
Hardly  refrained,  and  went  and  brought  to  book 
My  parents  on  the  morrow.  And  they  took 
It  much  amiss  of  him  who  shot  the  taunt, 

And  I  was  pleased  with  them.  But  it  would  haunt 
Me,  galling  still  :  for  word  went  all  abroad. 
Therefore,  unknown  to  them,  I  took  the  road 
For  Pytho.  Disappointed  of  my  quest, 

Phoebus  dismissed  me,  but  was  manifest 
In  words  grim,  cruel,  dismal,  I  must  mate 
With  my  own  mother ,  raising  {such  my  fate ) 


32 


SOPHOCLES 


A  race  the  world  should  not  endure  to  seey 
And  murder  him  who  had  begotten  me. 

This  when  I’d  heard  (resolved  no  more  to  know 
Of  Corinth  save  by  stars  (27)),  I  turned  to  go 
Where  I  might  ne’er  the  accomplishment  behold 
Of  all  the  shame  that  ill  Response  foretold. 

And  as  I  walked,  just  such  a  point  I  gain 
As  that  where  you  describe  the  King  was  slain. 

\JVith  growing  agitation. 
My  wife,  to  you  I  will  confess,  when  near 
These  Three  Crossways  my  journey  brought  me 
— here — 

Met  me  a  herald,  and  another  mounted 
Upon  a  carriage,  such  as  you  recounted. 

The  old  man  and  the  guide  who  cleared  his  course 
Offered  to  drive  me  from  the  road  by  force. 

And  I  in  fury  caught  the  driver  a  blow 
Because  he  hustled  me.  The  old  man  though, 
Watching  until  I  passed  him  on  the  road, 

F rom  where  he  sat,  brought  down  his  two-pronged 
goad 

Fair  on  my  head.  Aha  !  but  dear  he  paid  ! 

One  cudgel  from  this  arm  and  quick  !  he’s  laid 
Face  upwards,  tumbled  from  the  carriage,  clean  ! 
I  killed  them  all. 

Now  if  he  can  have  been, 
This  stranger,  aught  to  Laios  akin, 

Was  ever  man  so  marked  with  curse  of  sin  ? 
Native  or  strange,  forbid  are  all  and  each 
To  house  me,  no  man  may  with  me  have  speech, 
But  thrust  me  out.  And  ’twas  no  other  man 
But  I  myself  laid  on  myself  this  ban. 

The  dead  man’s  wife  these  hands  of  mine  defile, 


KING  CEDIPUS 


33 


By  which  he  fell.  Was  I  created  vile  ? 

Am  I  not  whole  corruption  ?  I  must  be 
An  exile,  and  exiled  may  never  see 
My  own,  nor  tread  upon  my  native  land — 

Or  else  be  coupled  with  my  mother  and 
Murder  my  father.  Let  one  say,  ’ Twas  fated 
Cruelty  so  ;  and  is  my  case  not  stated  ? 

Not  so,  pure  worship  of  the  Gods,  not  so  ! 

Let  me  not  see  that  day,  but  sooner  go 
Out  of  the  world  in  darkness  ere  I  see 
Such  blot  of  horror  overtaking  me  ! 

L.  of  Cho.  Sir,  ’tis  a  frightful  doubt  :  but  do  not  ere 
You  hear  the  eye-witness  of  the  fact,  despair. 
(Ed.  Ay,  true.  There’s  just  this  much  of  hope  yet 
holds — 

Just  to  await  this  fellow  from  the  folds. 

Joe.  What’s  your  desire  of  him  when  he’s  appeared  ? 
(Ed.  I  will  inform  you.  Of  the  crime  I’m  cleared, 
Suppose  his  tale  be  found  with  yours  to  agree. 
Joe.  What  special  point  was  this  you  heard  from  me  ? 
(Ed.  Robbers  you  said  that  he  reported — men — 
Killed  him.  That  number  let  him  say  again, 

I  killed  him  not :  can  several  be  the  same 
As  one  ?  but  if  one  lonegirt  man  he  name, 

Then  clearly  towards  me  dips  the  deed  of  shame. 
Joe.  The  word  was  published  so,  beyond  a  doubt ; 

He  can’t  go  back  and  strike  that  matter  out : 
The  town  was  there,  not  I  alone,  to  observe. 
Yet  should  he  from  his  former  story  swerve, 

He  proves  not  truly  and  duly  brought  to  pass 
Your  murder  of  King  Lai'os.  Loxias 
Foretold  in  terms  his  death  by  child  of  mine. 
Poor  child  1  too  soon  he  did  himself  resign 

c 


34 


SOPHOCLES 


His  life !  he  never  was  the  murderer. 

And  so  from  now  my  eye  I’ll  never  stir 
This  way  or  that,  for  all  the  seers  aver. 

(Ed.  A  sound  belief.  But  send  a  man  to  hail 

This  man  o’  the  field  to  come,  and  do  not  fail. 
Joe .  Let  us  come  in — I’ll  send,  nor  wait  to  strike  : 
I  would  not  do  a  thing  that  you  dislike. 


KING  CEDIPUS 


35 


Chorus/28* 

(i  st  Turn,) 

I  pray  my  luck  in  life  be  ever 
To  persever 

Still  devout  in  word  and  deed 
Maintaining  holy  use,  which  stands  for  us  decreed 
In  heavenly  Testimonies 

That  travel  aloft  the  air,  skyborn,  whose  Father  is 
Olympus  alone,  and  no  creation  of  humankind. 

Oblivion  lacks  the  power  to  fold 
These  in  his  slumber  out  of  mind  : 

For  a  God  is  mighty  in  them,  and  ne’er  grows  old. 


(nr  Counter-turn,) 

The  Sin  of  Pride  too  high  aspirant 
Breeds  a  tyrant. 

Wanton,  after  surfeitings 
On  profitless,  unseasonable  things, 

To  the  extreme  precipice 

Pride  mounteth  on  high,  and  down  towards  the  dire 
abyss 

He  leapeth  of  Needs-must-be,  where  footing  is 
none  for  feet. 

I  pray  that  God  th’  ordeal  of  old  <29 
Happily  waged,  may  not  defeat. 
Evermore  my  mighty  defence  the  Lord  I’ll  hold. 


SOPHOCLES 


(2nd  Turn.) 

Whoso  walks  in  high  presuming 

Or  of  handiwork  or  speech, 

Nor  standeth  in  awe  of  Justice, 

Nor  to  sainted  image  bows  ; 

Calamity  catch  him,  dooming 

Wretched  pride  to  reck’ning  sore — 
Whose  gains  are  not  the  gains  of  lawful  treasure, 
But  after  things  impure  must  reach, 

And  all  for  handling  things  forbid  his  lust  is. 
Shall  any  man  more 
Boast  his  soul  in  proof  to  house 
’Gainst  the  bolts  of  Gods  defended  ? 

Where  such  evil  dealing  goes  not  uncommended 
Why  tread  we  a  measure  ?  <30) 

(2nd  Counter-turn.) 

Pilgrim  never  again  I’ll  linger 

By  the  holy  Navel-Stone  ;  <31> 

No  more  the  Abantian  portal 

Nor  th’  Olympian  I’ll  frequent — 

If  pointing  of  all  men’s  finger 

Testify  not  This  fell  true. 

Zeus  !  Potentate  ! — if  rightly  Zeus  thou’rt 
hailed— 

Almighty,  let  this  thing  be  known 
To  thee  and  thy  dominion  aye  immortal  ! 

The  prophecy  due 
Wanes  long  since  without  event, 

And  they  scoff  at  Lai'os’  story. 

Nowhere  shines  Apollo  magnified  in  glory  : 
And  Worship  is  failed. 


KING  CEDIPUS 


37 


Enter  Jocasta,  furnished  for  a  sacrifice ,  and  attended 

by  waiting  women . 

Joe.  Lords  of  the  land,  there  came  to  me  the  thought 
To  seek  the  shrines  of  godhead  ;  I  have  brought 
These  chaplets  in  my  hand  with  frankincense. 
My  husband’s  heart  is  flown  in  such  suspense 
Of  vague  uneasiness  :  a  man  of  sense 
Judges  new  things  by  old — hes  mastered  quite 
By  every  speaker,  if  he  speaks  to  affright. 

So  when  I  found  no  help  in  argument, 

To  thee,  Lycean  Apollo,  I  present 
These  intercessions — none  so  near  as  thou  : 

A  pure  deliverance  to  us  allow. 

For  seeing  him  afraid  we  start  and  shudder ; 
Shipmates,  but  his  the  hand  that  guides  the  rudder. 

Enter  a  foreign  Shepherd  as  Messenger. 

Mes.  Strange  Sirs,  perhaps  you  can  enlighten  me 
Where  CEdipus’  abode,  the  King’s,  may  be  ? 

Or  better,  if  you  know  it — where  is  he  ? 

Cho.  Strange  Sir,  he  is  within — this  house  is  his : 

The  mother  of  his  children — there  she  is. 

Mes.  Blest  be  among  surroundings  blest  your  life ! 

Since  by  that  consummation  you’re  his  wife/32) 
Joe.  To  you  the  same,  Sir  !  For  it  is  the  due 

Of  such  fair  speech.  But  what  request  have  you 
Or  news  for  errand  ? 

Mes.  Madam,  ’tis  a  thing 

Good  for  your  house  and  lord,  the  news  I  bring/33) 
Joe.  What  may  that  be  ?  From  whom  do  you  bring 
us  word  ? 


SOPHOCLES 


38 

M es.  F rom  Corinth.  It  is  news  that  when  you’ve  heard 
Will  please  you,  doubtless,  yet  may  bring  you 
trouble. 

Joe.  What  is  it  ?  Can  it  have  a  force  so  double  ? 
Mes.  The  people  of  the  land  will  make  him  King 
Of  Isthmia — ’tis  the  talk  of  the  place  I  bring. 
Joe.  Old  Polybus  no  more  sovereign  ?  In  his  room  ? 
Mes.  Far  from  it ;  Death’s  his  master  in  the  tomb. 

Joe.  What’s  that  ?  Polybus  dead  ? 

Mes.  He  is  :  if  I 

Speak  false,  /  ask  no  better  than  to  die. 

Joe.  (to  her  attendant ).  Here,  woman  :  run  with  utmost 
swiftness  shod 

And  tell  your  master.  Oracles  of  God, 

See  where  you  are !  Him  all  this  while  in  dread 
Of  murder  CEdipus  shunned ;  and  now  he’s  dead, 
Not  by  his  hand,  but  natural  doom  instead ! 

Enter  CEdipus  from  the  Palace. 

CEd.  Darling  Jocasta,  tell  me,  consort  dear, 

Why  you  have  fetched  me  out  and  brought  me 
here  ? 

Joe.  Listen  to  him,  and  judge  you,  listening,  how 
Apollo’s  precious  oracles  stand  now ! 

(Ed.  But  who  is  this  ?  What  does  he  want  of  me  ? 
Joe.  From  Corinth.  Polybus  your  father  lives 

No  more — he’s  perished :  that’s  the  news  he  gives. 
CEd.  What’s  that  ?  Strange  Sir,  your  own  informer  be. 
Mes.  If  I  must  first  report  upon  that  head, 

Be  well  assured  his  place  is  with  the  dead. 

(Ed.  By  treason,  or  visitation  of  disease  ? 

Mes.  A  touch  of  the  scale  sets  aged  bones  at  ease. 


KING  CEDIPUS 


39 


C Ed .  Poor  man,  it  was  disease — I  understand  ? 

Mes.  Yes,  and  the  lengthy  date  of  years  he  spanned. 
Ed.  Well,  well,  my  wife,  why  study  any  more 
The  hearth  of  Pythian  divination,  or 
The  birds  that  scream  aloft !  By  them  for  guide 
I  was  to  kill  my  father !  Now  he’s  died ! 

— Deep  under-ground  !  and  here  am  I,  my  blade 
Unhandled — unless  it  were  my  absence  preyed 
Upon  his  life  :  that  would  be  killed  by  me. 
Response  and  all,  as  such  responses  be, 

He’s  lodged  with  Death,  and  they  are  vanity. 

Joe .  Did  I  not  tell  you  of  it  long  ago  ? 

(Ed.  You  did  ;  but  my  alarm  misled  me  so. 

Joe .  Take  it  no  more  henceforth  into  your  head. 

(Ed.  Must  I  not  shudder  at  my  mother’s  bed  ? 

Joe .  What  should  he  fear  who  reckons  Chance  supreme, 
And  all  foreknowledge  nothing  but  a  dream  ? 
Best  live  from  hand  to  mouth,  as  best  one  might ! 
These  bridals  with  your  mother — take  no  fright 
For  them.  Before  now,  many  a  man,  in  dreams 
Slept  with  his  mother.  He  to  whom  it  seems 
All  nothing,  has  the  life  that’s  easiest  led. 

(Ed.  This  were  as  soundly  as  ’tis  boldly  said, 

Were  not  my  mother  living  :  till  she’s  dead, 
Well  said  or  no,  I  still  am  bound  to  dread. 

Joe.  A  great  eye  opens  to  us  in  his  decease. 

(Ed.  ’Tis  great, I  know.  But  while  she  lives — no  peace. 
Mes.  This  woman  you  so  dread — who  may  she  be  ? 
(Ed.  Old  man,  ’tis  Polybus’  consort,  Merope. 

Mes.  What  is  it  causes  you  such  dread  in  her  ? 

(Ed.  A  frightful  oracle  from  Heaven,  sir. 

Mes.  Communicable  ?  Or  not  for  other  ears  ? 

(Ed.  Oh,  surely  !  Loxias  foretold  me,  years 


40 


SOPHOCLES 


Ago,  that  I  must  share  my  mother’s  bed 
And  with  these  hands  my  father’s  blood  must  shed. 
Corinth,  my  home,  has  called  me  absentee 
On  that  account  so  long  :  best  so,  may  be — 

[. Looking  full  at  Jocasta. 
But  oh  how  sweet  to  see  your  parent’s  face. 

Mes .  Was  it  this  fear  that  made  you  shun  the  place  ? 
Ed.  And,  sir,  I  wished  no  parricide  to  be. 

Mes.  Why  have  I  not  released  you  from  this  fear, 
When  ’twas  to  do  you  pleasure  I  came  here  ? 
(Ed.  Be  sure  you  should  not  want  your  proper  fee. 
Mes.  Well,  to  be  sure,  I  chiefly  came  for  it — 

That  your  return  might  make  me  gain  a  bit. 

(Ed.  Never  !  Return  to  meet  my  parents’  touch  ! 
Mes.  My  son,  ’tis  pretty  plain  you  don’t  know  much. 
Ed.  How  so,  old  man  ?  In  God’s  name  let  me  know. 
Mes.  If  for  their  sake  you  shun  home-coming  so. 

Ed.  It  is  my  fear  that  Phoebus  may  prove  true. 

Mes.  Pollution  from  a  parent  fall  on  you  ? 

Ed.  Just  that,  old  man,  that  frights  me  all  day  long. 
Mes.  Now  do  you  know  your  terrors  are  all  wrong  ? 
Ed.  How  can  I  help  it  ? — They've,  my  stock  and  stem. 
Mes.  You  were  nothing  in  blood,  my  son,  to  them. 
Ed.  He’s  not  my  father  whom  I  took  for  such  ? 

Mes.  No  more  at  all  than  I,  but  just  so  much. 

Ed.  No  more  ?  A  father  than  a  God-knows-what  ? 
Mes.  You’re  not  by  him  and  not  by  me  begot. 

Ed.  What  did  he  mean  then  when  he  called  me  so  ? 
Mes.  Gift  from  my  hands  he  took  you  long  ago. 

Ed.  Loved  me  so  dearly — from  another’s  hand  ? 

Mes.  Childless,  he  could  not  such  appeal  withstand. 
Ed.  By  chance  or  purchase  yours,  you  gave  me  then  ? 
Mes.  Found  by  Cithaeron  in  a  winding  glen. 


KING  CEDIPUS 


4i 

(Ed.  Why  should  you  walk  the  region  there  at  large  ? 
Mes .  The  flocks  at  upland  pasture  were  my  charge. 
(Ed,  A  shepherd,  just  a  menial  serf — a  stray  ! 

Mes.  Yes,  and,  my  child,  your  saviour  on  that  day. 
(Ed.  A  timely  rescue  ?  What  amiss  had  I  ? 

Mes.  Two  ankle-bones  of  yours  could  testify. 

(Ed.  What  trouble’s  this  you  hint  at,  so  long  ceased  ? 
Mes.  Sharp  spikes  transfixed  your  feet  which  I  released. 
(Ed.  What  a  reproach  for  birthmark  was  my  share  ! 
Mes .  On  that  account  they  gave  the  name  you  bear. 
CEd.  Mother  or  father  ?  In  God’s  name,  I  beseech  you ! 
Mes.  I  know  not :  he  that  gave  you  me  could  teach  you. 
(Ed.  Gave  me  ?  I  was  not  yours  by  right  of  trover  ? 
Mes.  No  :  ’twas  another  herd  did  hand  you  over. 

(Ed.  Who  was’t  ?  Identify  him  if  you  can. 

Mes.  Oh,  to  be  sure,  he  passed  for  Lai'os’  man. 

CEd.  That  one  who  had,  long  since,  these  sovereignties  ? 
Mes.  Y es,  yes ;  that  is  the  one  :  the  man  was  his. 

(Ed.  And  is  he  still  alive — for  looking  at  ? 

Mes.  ’Tis  you,  his  countrymen,  should  best  know  that. 
(Ed.  Can  any  one  of  you  who  stand  beside  me, 

To  find  this  shepherd  whom  he  speaks  of,guideme, 
From  seeing  him  in  the  field  or  hereabout  ? 
Declare  !  It  is  the  time  the  truth  were  out. 
Cho.  The  fellow  from  the  field,  I  think  ’tis  he, — 

The  very  man  you  sent  before  to  see. 

But,  here  !  Jocasta  knows  as  much  as  we. 

(Ed.  Wife,  is  the  man  of  whom  you  hear  him  speak, 
The  same  as  he  we  lately  sent  to  seek  ? 

Joe.  Pay  no  regard.  What  matter  whom  he  meant? 

Refuse  a  thought  to  the  tale — ’twere  vainly  spent. 
(Ed.  That  is  impossible — that  with  so  much  light 

Gained,  I  should  fail  to  bring  my  birth  to  sight. 


SOPHOCLES 


42 

Joe.  In  God’s  name — as  you  love  your  life — don’t  pluck 
This  secret  out.  {Aside.)  Enough  that  I  am  struck. 
(Ed.  Take  heart  !  Though  thrice  serf  to  the  third 
degree 

I’m  proved,  proved  baseborn  you  shall  never  be. 
Joe.  Yet  listen,  I  beseech  you  :  do  not  so. 

Ed.  I  will  not  listen,  and  forbear  to  know — 

Joe.  ’Tis  for  the  best  I  speak,  in  love’s  intent. 

Ed.  Oh,  well  !  too  long  these  for-the-bests  torment. 
Joe.  Doomed  !  might  you  never  guess  your  true 
descent ! 

Ed.  Will  no  one  bring  this  shepherd  here  to  me  ! 

Leave  her  to  gloat  on  wealth  and  pedigree. 

Joe.  Poor  wretch  !  poor  wretch  !  This  only  I  acclaim 
you, 

And  never  otherwise  hereafter  name  you. 

[Exit  Jocasta. 

L.  of  Cho.  What  is  become  of  her  ? — In  wild  distress 
Departed!  {They  listen .)  *  Silence!  and  I  fear 
to  guess 

In  what  bad  sort  this  silence  she  will  break. 

Ed.  Break  as  she  pleases  !  I  shall  choose  to  take 
Sight  of  my  seed,  though  it  be  small.  I  make 
No  doubt — she’s  prouder  than  her  sex — withscorn 
And  shame  she  looks  on  me  as  meanly  born. 
Myself  to  be  the  child  of  Chance  I  claim, 

Of  fair  occasion  :  I  will  take  no  shame. 

She  is  my  mother :  months  who  shared  my  birth 
Mapped  me  a  place  with  small  and  great  on  earth/36) 
Born  such,  I  cannot  now  prove  different, 

That  I  should  spare  to  follow  my  descent. 


KING  CEDIPUS 


43 


Dance  and  Chorus/36) 

[Turn.) 

Art  of  the  Seer  to  me  is  given, 

Seer  enough  my  wits  I  count ! 

Thou,  in  the  name  of  yon  heaven, 

Thou,  Cithaeron  Mount, 

Thou  shalt  hear  the  secret  soon, 

Ere  to-morrow’s  plenilune  ! 

Glory  to  thee  shall  CEdipus 

Render,  thou  art  his,  none  other  ! 

He  shall  hail  thee  nurse  and  mother  : 
True  to  his  cause  thou  hast  striven  ; 

Dance  and  song  accept  of  us ! 

O  Phoebus,  on  whom  we  cry,  to  thee 
Let  it  not  displeasing  be. 


{Counter -turn!) 

Who  then  of  all  the  folk  undying, 

Who  of  them  conceived  thee,  child  ? 

Nigh  to  the  Goat-god  a-lying, 

Pan  that  walks  the  wild  ? 

Paramour  of  Loxias 
Mothered  thee  ?  Across  the  grass 
Lawn  of  the  moorland  oft  he’ll  rove. 

Did  the  master  of  Cyllene, 

Or  the  Lord  of  Bacchant  meiny 
(Oft  on  the  hill  is  he  plying) 

Take  the  jolly  treasure-trove 

From  Nymph  Heliconian,  mates  at  play 
Whom  he  most  frequents  alway  ? 


SOPHOCLES 


44 

CEd.  If  I,  sirs,  I,  that  never  had  to  do 

With  him,  may  guess,  I  think  there  comes  in  view 
Our  long-sought  shepherd.  For  he  suits  the  span 
Of  age,  and  harmonises  with  this  man; 

Besides,  I  know  his  escort  as  my  own 
Household  :  but  you  who’ve  seen  the  man  and 
known, 

Your  certitude  may  well  my  guess  outpace. 

Cho.  ’Tis  Laios’  man — oh  yes,  I  know  the  face — 
Loyal  as  any,  in  his  shepherd’s  place. 

Enter  a  Herdsman,  guarded . 

CEd .  You  first,  Corinthian  stranger, — is  this  he 
You  mean  ?  I  ask  you. 

Mes .  ’Tis  the  man  you  see. 

CEd.  You  there,  old  man,  just  turn  your  eye  this  way, 
And  tell  me.  You  belonged  to  La’fos,  eh  ? 

Shep.  I  did  :  no  bought  slave,  homebred  from  a  boy. 
CEd.  What  livelihood,  what  task  was  your  employ  ? 
Shep.  Most  of  my  life  I  followed  with  the  sheep. 

CEd.  What  was  the  ground  that  you  would  chiefly  keep  ? 
Shep.  Cithaeron,  there  or  thereabouts  I’d  wander. 

CEd.  This  man — d’you  know  if  e’er  you  knew  him 
yonder  ? 

Shep.  As  doing  what  ?  Nay,  which  is  he  you  mean  ? 
CEd.  This,  here.  Was  e’er  a  deal  you  two  between  ? 
Shep.  No — that  is — on  the  sudden — I  forget. 

Mes.  And,  Sire,  it  is  no  wonder.  Only  let 
Me  now  remind  forgetfulness.  I  know 
That  he  knows  well  what  time  in  lands  below 
Cithaeron,  he  with  two  flocks,  I  with  one, 
Thrice  we  were  neighbours  till  the  term  was  run, 


KING  CEDIPUS 


45 

Six  months  from  Springtime  till  Arcturus  ftres.(37) 
Then,  winter  come,  my  flock  to  fold  retires, 
And  he  to  Laios’  farm  with  what  he’d  got ; 

Is  there  the  fact  in  this,  or  is  there  not  ? 

Shep.  You  speak  the  truth,  but  what  a  while  ago  ! 
Mes.  Come,  tell  me  now.  D’you  know  that  then  you 
gave  me 

A  child  to  rear,  and  as  ’twere  mine  behave  me  ? 
Shep.  What  do  you  want — to  search  this  story  so  ? 
Mes.  That  baby  and  this  man  here,  my  lad,  are  one. 
Shep.  Damnation  ! — Hold  your  tongue,  man,  and  have 
done  ! 

(Ed.  Heigh  !  Chide  not  him,  old  man  ;  your  own 
words  give 

More  cause  for  chiding  than  his  narrative. 

Shep.  For  what,  my  good  Lord,  am  I  ta’en  to  task  ? 
(Ed.  Not  telling  of  the  child  :  you  hear  him  ask. 

Shep.  Ignorant  talk — pains  wasted  to  pursue  it. 

(Ed.  To  please,  you  won’t — but  speak  you  shall  and 
rue  it ! 

Shep.  No,  no,  for  God’s  sake — do  grey  hairs  no  harm  ! 
(Ed.  Let  him  be  pinioned,  quick !  Some  one — his  arm ! 
Shep.  Lord  help  me,  why  ?  What  more  is  there  to 
unmask  ? 

(Ed.  Gave  you  the  child  to  him  ?  You  hear  him  ask. 
Shep.  I  gave  it :  would  that  I  had  died  that  day  ! 

(Ed.  Oh,  if  you  speak  not  right,  ’twill  lead  you  there  ! 
Shep.  Nay,  much  more  I  am  lost  if  I  declare. 

(Ed.  The  man  ’tis  clear  is  making  for  delay. 

Shep.  No,  no,  not  I  !  I  gave — have  I  not  said  it  ? 

(Ed.  Whence  got  ?  Your  own  or  had  another  bred  it? 
Shep.  My  own  ?  Not  I — the  child  was  given  me. 

(Ed.  By  whom  in  Thebes?  And  of  what  roof  was  he? 


46 


SOPHOCLES 


Shep .  No  !  Sire,  for  God’s  sake,  no  !  No  further  seek ! 
(Ed.  You’re  lost,  if  I  shall  ask  you  twice  to  speak. 

Shep.  Belonged  to  Laios,  if  it  must  be  said. 

(Ed.  A  slave,  or  of  the  royal  lineage  bred  ? 

Shep.  Ah,  I  am  near  to  speak  the  frightful  word. 

(Ed.  And  I  to  hear  it :  but  it  must  be  heard. 

Shep.  Yes,  ’tis  the  truth  :  the  child  did  pass  for  his. 

Madam  within  can  best  say  how  that  is. 

(Ed.  She  gave  it  to  you  ? 

Shep.  Sire,  indeed  she  did. 

(Ed.  As  for  what  purpose  ? 

Shep.  Kill  it,  I  was  bid. 

(Ed.  The  wretched  mother  ? 

Shep.  Prophecies  were  grim. 

(Ed.  Which? 

Shep.  That  his  parents  should  be  killed  by  him. 

(Ed.  Why  did  you  give  him  to  the  old  man  there  ? 

Shep.  In  pity,  Sire  :  I  thought  he’d  go  elsewhere 

And  take  the  child  to’s  home.  But  for  the  worse 
He  saved  him.  If  you’re  whom  he  did  declare, 
Then  doubt  not,  from  your  birth  you  bear  a  curse. 
(Ed.  Ay  me,  ay  me.  And  so  ’twill  all  come  true  ! 

O  Light,  this  hour’s  the  last  I  look  on  you. 

Proved  misbegot,  in  marriage  misallied, 

And  misadventured  even  in  homicide. 

[Exit  wildly .  ^ 


KING  CEDIPUS 


47 


Chorus. 

(irt  Turn.) 

Such,  such  generation  is 

Thine,  O  man  !  as  a  nullity 
All  your  life,  I  conceive  it : 
Where,  where,  is  a  man,  O  where, 
Gets  of  fortune  an  ampler  share 
Than  the  seeming  alone  to  wear, 
Then  the  droop  fro’  the  seeming  r 
Of  thy  Daemon  a  text  I  make, 

Thee  luckless  CEdipodas,  I  take, 
Human  happiness  all  mistaken 
Vanity  deeming. 


(15/  Counter -turn!) 

None  drew  such  a  bow  as  his  ! 

Wealth’s  prime  glory,  to  cull  it  he 
Aimed,  and  straight  did  achieve  it : 
Zeus  !  fall  to  his  hand  we  saw 
That  maid  sorceress  hook’d  o’  claw, 
And  when  Death  i’  the  land  was  law, 
Then  uprose  he,  a  tower ! 

From  which  day  you  be  called  a  King  ! 
And  highest  honour  of  all  to  bring, 
High  Thebes  came  to  the  furnishing 
Your  sceptre  o’  power. 


48 


SOPHOCLES 


( 2nd  Turn.) 

But  after  all 

Who  so  sad  to  name  as  he  ? 

With  cruellest  fall 

Doomed  in  pains  to  congregate, 
With  life-in-overthrow  to  mate  ! 
Ay  me  !  O  majestic  CEdipus  ! 

One  broad  harbour,  one 
Was  for  both  a  port, 

Proved  for  sire  and  son 
Matrimonial  resort. 

Tilth  o’  the  field  where  ploughed  the  sire, 

<  How  could  you  serve  the  son’s  desire, 
Never  a  cry,  thus 

For  so  long  a  season  ? 


(2 nd  Counter -turn!) 

In  thy  despite 

Time,  all  seeing,  traces  thee. 

He  doth  requite 

The  unnuptial  nuptial  bed 
So  long  the  breeder  and  the  bred. 
Ay  me  !  Thou  the  child  of  La'ios  ! 
Would  that  never  my 
Eyes  on  thee  I’d  set  ! 

Now  the  deathbed  cry 

Loudly  o’er  thee  living  yet 
Will  I  outpour.  Yet  truth  is  plain  : 
Thanks  to  thy  help,  I  breathed  again  ; 
Slumbered  my  eye  thus, 

Thyself  wert  the  reason. 


KING  CEDIPUS 


49 


Enter  a  Messenger  from  within. 

Mes.  Sirs,  whom  the  land  still  honours  in  the  extreme, 
What  deeds  you’ll  hear,  what  sights,  what  grief 
you’ll  find 

Here,  if  so  be  you  keep  your  loyal  mind 
Towards  the  house  of  Labdakos!  I  deem 
That  not  the  Phasis  nor  the  Ister  stream 
Could  wash  this  dwelling  clean :  such  secrets  lurk 
Within,  such  dreadful  voluntary  work, 

Unforced,  it  shall  disclose.  No  foul  affair 
Pains  more  than  such  as  wanton  choice  declare. 
L .  of  Cho.  Nothing  of  lamentable  lacked  the  bad 

We  knew  before  :  what  have  you  more  to  add  ? 
Mes.  Well,  soonest  understood  and  soonest  said  : — 
Her  sacred  majesty  Jocasta’s  dead. 

L.  of  Cho.  Unhappy  lady  !  What  could  be  the  cause  ? 
Mes.  Herself  the  cause.  But  oh,  my  tale  withdraws 
The  saddest  part  of  the  matter — ’tis  not  seeing  1 
Yet  to  the  best  of  recollection,  being 
But  what  I  am,  I’ll  tell  her  piteous  fate. 

When  in  her  angry  mood  she  passed  the  gate 
Straight  forward  to  her  bridal  bed  she  bore  : 

No  sooner  entered  in,  she  clapped  the  door, 

And  fell  to  calling  La’fos,  long  since  dead  ; 
Mentioned  an  old-time  seed,  whereby  she  said 
That  he  must  die,  and  she  be  left  alone 
For  miscreant  engendering  with  her  own  ; 
Bemoaned  the  bed  where  fate  had  made  her  bear 
Husband  to  husband,  sons  to  sons,  the  pair. 

How  then  she  perished,  that  I  cannot  tell ; 

For  in  burst  CEdipus  with  such  a  yell 
As  would  not  let  us  watch  her  anguish  out, 


50 


SOPHOCLES 


But  made  us  mark  him  as  he  roved  about  : 

For  up  and  down  he  begged  a  blade  of  us — 

And  where  to  find  his  wife — not  wife  ! — who  thus 
Proved  double  field  to  grow  him  and  his  sons. 

And  to  his  madness  one  of  the  Heavenly  Ones 
Revealed  her — none  of  us,  we  all  stood  by  : 

One  leap  against  the  doors — one  ghastly  cry — 
As  if  he  had  the  clue  (God  knows  of  whom  !) 

He  buckled  homedrawn  bolts,  and  stormed  the 
room  ! 

There  was  the  woman  hanging,  we  could  see, 
Noosed  in  a  bight  of  swinging  cord.  But  he 
No  sooner  sees,  than  with  a  frightful  roar 
He  slacks  the  hanging  knot.  When  on  the  floor 
She  lay — ah,  then  ’twas  frightful  to  behold  ! 

Her  vesture-clasps,  brooches  of  beaten  gold, 

He  pulled  from  her  (they  deck  her  as  she  lies) 
Uplifts  and  stabs  the  members  of  his  eyes, 
Shouting  aloud,  u  You  shall  not  see  me  more , 

Nor  all  the  wrongs  1  did ,  the  wrongs  I  bore  ; 
Henceforth  in  darkness  see  what's  best  unseen , 

And  leave  unrecognised  what  should  have  been  l  ” 

To  such  a  tune  not  once  but  many  a  time 
He  struck,  lids  lifted.  His  eyes,  all  blood,  beslime 
The  while  his  cheek  unceasing  with  an  ooze 
Of  clotted  gore,  and  all  the  while  fell  dews 
Of  drizzling  blood,  dark  hail  of  bloody  beads. 

This  woe  was  wrought  of  two :  not  one  it  needs 
For  victim,  man  and  wife  conjoint  will  strike.  { 
Wealth  ?  The  old-time  bygone  state — that,  if 
you  like  ' 

Was  proper  wealth,  but  now  upon  this  day 
Doom,  lamentation,  death,  dishonour — nay, 
Names  of  all  evils,  none’s  to  seek  of  these  ! 

Cho.  Poor  wretch,  and  is  he  now  at  all  at  ease  ? 

Mes,  u Display  me, you” — he  cries — “ the  doors fling  wide , 
Display  me  to  all  Thebes ,  a  parricidey 


KING  CEDIPUS 


5i 


A  mother’s — ”  Foul !  I  cannot  speak  of  it ! 
He’ll  hurl  himself  abroad,  nor  longer  sit 
Accursing,  self-accurst,  the  house.  And  yet 
He  wants  for  strength,  a  guide  he  needs  to  get  : 
’Tis  greater  sickness  than  a  man  can  brook. 

But  he  will  shew  you  :  closed  portals — look  ! 
Roll  wide.  ( The  doors  are  opened.') 

A  sight — you  have  not  long  to  wait  ! — 
A  sight  e’en  loathing  must  compassionate  ! 

\Enter  CEdipus,  blinded  and  disfigured. 

i 

Lament  :  CEdipus  and  Chorus,  with  overture  in 

marching  measure . 

Cho.  O  grim  to  the  sight  of  a  man,  such  pain  ! 

None  grimmer  of  all  sights  gaze  yet  of  mine 
In  the  world  has  found.  O  soul,  full  sad  ! 

Did  a  frenzy  assail  ?  What  ill  angel’s  thine, 
Who  with  a  leap  all  fiends  outleaping 
Strikes  hard  thy  days  of  disaster  ? 

I  cannot  behold  thee  tho1  ever  so  fain 

Of  thee  to  ask  much,  take  thee  to  task  much, 
Eyes  on  thee  keeping  : 

This  shudder  I  still  cannot  master  ! 


Lament. 


- 


CEd.  rAiai !  Aiai !  How  dismal  am  I ! 

Where  now  in  the  world  am  I  moving?  Anc 
where  /  v*} 

Does  it  hover  and  scatter  abroad,  this  cry  ? 

O  Fiend,  what  a  le^p  was  there  ! 


Cho .  To  ends  too  dread  for  any  eye  or  ear  ! 


52 


SOPHOCLES 


(ij/  Turn.) 

(Ed.  Ay  me,  the  dark — 

Enveloping  me  horrible,  voluble,  unutterable  ! 

O  my  inability!  Windbound  for  aye  ! 

Cry  Woe  ! 

And  once  more  Woe  ! — jointly  they  penetrate, 
Sting  of  my  spikes  and  memory  of  my  state. 

L.  of  Cho.  Y es,  and  no  wonder  if  in  this  mass  of  care 
Doubly  you  groan  and  double  anguish  bear. 


(i  st  Counter-turn.) 

(Ed.  Friends’  voices  ! — hark  ! 

Ministering  loyally,  true  to  me  yet,  indefatigable  ! 
Can  you  so  patiently  beside  the  blind  man  stay  ? 
Heigho  ! 

You  cannot  baffle  me — I  recognise 

Your  voice  despite  the  darkness  of  these  eyes. 

L.  of  Cho .  O  ghastly  work  !  What  made  those  hands 
so  swift 

To  wreck  your  eyes?  What  Spirit  could  so 
uplift  ? 


“Found  by  Cithseron  in  a  winding  glen.’* 


54 


SOPHOCLES 


[2nd  Turn.) 

(Ed.  Apollo  it  was,  Apollo,  good  sirs ! 

Did  amiss  by  me,  thus  amiss,  cruelly,  cruelly  ! 
Though  none  but  I,  own-felon  !  dealt  the  blow, 
poor  wight  ! 

Had  I  a  use  for  sight 

When  seeing  offered  nothing  sweet  to  see  ? 
Cho.  True,  that  was  even  as  you  say. 

CEd.  Much  cause  had  I,  much,  to  look ; 

Much  to  care  for,  or  salute 
My  ear  with  sweet  accost,  good  sirs  ! 

Away  with  me,  out  o’  the  land  with  me,  in  haste, 
in  haste, 

Up,  away  with  me,  O  my  friends  !  Damned 
am  I,  disgraced. 

Never  a  man  so  accurst ;  never  had  Heaven 
a  worse 

Grudge  on  a  man  than  me  ! 

L.  of  Cho.  Sad  mind  ! — to  match  the  stroke  that  has 
o’erthrown  you  : 

O  how  I  would  that  I  had  never  known  you  ! 


KING  CEDIPUS 


55 


[2nd  Counter -turn!) 

CEd.  Accurst,  he  that  loosed  from  cruel  fetterspurs 
The  waif  of  the  wilderness  !  As  a  deliverer  he 
Rescued,  recovered  me  from  death — unkind  ! 
Life  had  I  then  resigned, 

Less  misery  to  myself  and  mine  I’d  be  ! 

Cho .  Ay,  would  it  e’en  had  gone  that  way  ! 

CEd .  Instead,  my  father’s  life  I  took, 

Gained  in  all  the  world  repute 
For  bridals  whence  my  birth  was — hers. 
Now  am  I  God-forsaken,  iniquity-bred  ; 

Bed  of  my  birth  was  made  into  my  marriage-bed. 
Is  there  in  bad  yet  a  worst  ?  Foul  to  more 
foul  defers  ? 

QEdipus’  it  shall  be. 

L.  of  Cho.  I  know  not  how  I  can  approve  your  mind  : 
Better  to  be  no  more  than  living  blind. 


56  SOPHOCLES 

(Ed.  That  this  is  not  the  best  that  did  allow 

You  need  not  school  me  and  admonish  now! 
For  with  what  eyes  —  I  know  not — could  I 
brook 

Down  in  the  grave  upon  my  sire  to  look, 

And  my  poor  mother — sinned  against  past  hope 
Of  expiation  by  the  strangling  rope  ? 

My  children’s  looks,  tho’,  could  it  fail  to  please, 
Got  where  they  got  them,  to  contemplate 
these  ? 

Ah,  no  !  Ah,  nevermore  with  eyes  of  mine  ! 
Town,  tower,  and  monumental  form  divine — 
Never  again  !  From  all  these  things  I  stand 
Self-barred,  who  knew  no  peer  on  Theban  land, 
Self-banned,  a  miscreant,  I  whose  voice  was 
loud 

u  Reject  the  impious  man ,  the  heaven-avowed 
Impure  !  ”  And  now  my  evidence  has  shewn 
This  blot  on  La'ios’  house  to  be  my  own, 

Must  I  have  eyes  with  which  to  look  on  them  ? 
Not  that!  Why,  had  there  been  a  means  to 
stem 

The  hearing  fount  in  the  ear,  I’d  not  have 
spared 

To  lock  up  this  unhappy  flesh,  prepared 
For  blindness  and  for  hearing  nothing.  Sweet, 
If,  lodged  apart,  no  griefs  the  mind  could  meet! 
Why  didst  thou  harbour  me,  Cithaeron?  Why 
Didst  thou  not  take  and  slay  me  straight  ? — that  I 
Might  ne’er  have  published  proof  of  whence  I 
come. 

Polybus  !  Corinth  !  The  old  house,  called  my 
home  ! 


KING  CEDIPUS 


57 

What  festering  mischief,  glozed,  in  me  you 
nurst ! 

Now  I’m  declared  the  worst  and  born  o’  the 
worst. 

O  Three  Crossways,  and  O  sequester’d  lea, 
Covert  and  pass,  where  meet  the  highways  three, 
You  drank  my  blood  from  father’s  veins  out¬ 
poured 

By  these  my  hands !  And  can  you  still  record 
What  acts  I  did,  what  acts  I  went  to  do 
At  Thebes  thereafter  ?  Nuptials,  nuptials  !  You 
Engendered  me  and  then  must  breed  again, 
Sprout  the  same  seed,  and  give  to  sight  of  men 
Fathers,  and  sons  and  brothers  ;  blood  of  kin, 
Brides,  wives  and  mothers — all  the  acts  of  sin 
The  most  abominable  a  man  can  wreak  ! 

But — things  not  good  to  do,  are  ill  to  speak — 
Make  haste  in  God’s  name,  hide  me  from  the 
world. 

Away,  let  me  be  slain,  or  seaward  hurled, 

Where  never  eyes  of  yours  may  see  me  more  ! 
Come,  deign  to  touch  a  man  afflicted  sore  ! 
Consent,  be  not  afraid ! — My  guilt  and  pain 
None  else  but  I  am  able  to  sustain. 

L.  of  Cho.  To  Creon,  now  sole  guardian  of  this  nation, 
Belongs  the  effecting  and  consideration 
Of  this  request : — and  here  he  comes  at  need  ! 
(Ed.  What  words  have  I  to  address  him,  what  indeed  ? 
What  proper  warrant  can  I  now  declare, 

Base  as  I  was  to  him  in  that  affair  ? 


58 


SOPHOCLES 


Enter  Creon. 

Cre.  Not  as  a  mocker,  CEdipus,  I’m  come 

To  make  reproaches  of  that  martyrdom. 

[To  the  Chorus. 

But  tho’  of  humankind  you  have  no  shame, 
Respect  the  all-invigorating  flame 
Of  our  Lord  God  the  Sun  at  least,  and  spare 
Parading  such  pollution,  nude  and  bare, 

As  Earth,  and  holy  Rain,  and  Light  of  Day 
Disowns!  Make  haste!  Within  the  house1" 
convey ! 

Religion  bids  for  eyes  and  ears  of  kin 
Reserve  the  secret  of  a  kinsman’s  sin. 

CEd.  Oh,  since  so  noble  visiting  so  base 

Shocks  expectation,  in  God’s  name  a  grace 
I  crave  ! — for  your  sake,  not  for  mine  indeed ! 
Cre.  And  what  may  be  the  want  for  which  you  plead  ? 
(Ed.  Fling  me  abroad  with  all  despatch  you  can, 
Where  I  may  perish  far  from  speech  of  man  ! 

Cre.  That  would  I,  doubt  not,  did  I  not  desire 
Before  all  else  God’s  pleasure  to  inquire. 

(Ed.  His  word  was  manifest  enough,  I’m  sure  : 

Cut  off  the  parricide ,  the  man  impure  ! 

Cre.  This  was  so  said  :  but,  poorly  as  we  stand, 

’Tis  better  ascertain  the  God’s  command. 

CEd.  Ask  a  response  about  a  man  so  low  ? 

Cre .  Even  you  will  not  dispute  him  now,  I  know. 

CEd.  Well.  And  I  charge  you — ay,  I'll  supplicate — 
For  her  who  lies  within,  to  celebrate 
Such  funeral  as  you  please  :  your  right’s  un¬ 
grudged. 


KING  CEDIPUS  59 

For  me — let  this  my  Thebes  be  ne’er  adjudged 
To  have  me  for  a  living  inmate.  Rather 
Let  me  abide  in  the  mountains,  where  my  father 
And  mother,  living,  destined  me  a  tomb — 

Yon  hill  called  my  Cithaeron,(38)  that  my  doom 
May  come  from  them  who  sought  my  death. 
But  still, 

One  thing  I  know  :  nor  plague  nor  other  ill 
Must  ever  wreck  me — else  I’d  ne’er  escaped 
When  dying — till  the  ghastly  doom  be  shaped. 

But  let  my  fortune  take  what  path  it  takes. 
Then,  for  my  children — for  the  male  ones’  sakes 
Urge  no  endeavour  ;  they  are  men,  and  so 
Want  not  for  livelihood  where’er  they  go. 

But  these  poor  girls,  my  tearful,  cheerless  pair, 
Apart  from  whom  my  board  was  never  set 
To  separate  them  from  my  person  yet, 

But  still  in  all  I  touched  they  had  their  share — 
Take  thought  for  them.  And  let  me,  if  I  may, 
Touch  them,  and  weep  together,  weep  away. 

O  Sir,  allow  this  ! 

O  gentle  and  generous  !  Touch  them  if  I  might, 
I'd  feel  them  mine  as  when  I  had  my  sight. 

\Enter  Antigone  and  Ismene. 
What  is  it  now  ?  This — 

O  Heavens  !  No — it  cannot  be  I  hear 
My  sweet  ones  crying,  dearest  of  my  dear, 

— Fetched  hither  to  me  by  King  Creon’s  kind¬ 
ness  ? 

Inform  my  blindness! 

Cre.  You  are  informed !  I  with  this  boon  have 
blest  you 

For  this  fond  love  I  knew  had  long  possessed  you. 


6o  SOPHOCLES 


CEd.  Good  luck  be  yours,  and  for  this  errand’s  sake 
The  Spirit  for  you  a  better  guardian  make 
Than  e’er  for  me.  Where  are  you,  children  ? 
Please 

Come  to  these  hands ;  they  are  your  brother’s. 
These 

Have  ministered  to  make  these  eyes,  once  bright, 
Of  your  engendering  sire  have  this  for  sight. 
Because  I  would  not  look,  I  would  not  learn  ; 
Where  I  was  digged  I  fathered  you  in  turn. 
More  tears  ...  for  you — to  see  you  I’ve  no 
strength — 

To  think  of  all  the  bitter  coming  length 
Of  life  that  now  the  world  will  make  you  live. 
What  gatherings  or  what  festivals  will  give 
You  access,  and  you  will  not  go  away 
Tearfully  home  instead  of  holiday  ? 

And  when  you  reach  your  bridal  prime,  oh  then 
Who  will  there  be,  my  children,  who  of  men 
So  bold  to  take  upon  himself  the  shame 
Which  blasts  you  as  it  blasts  my  parents*  name  ? 
What  crime  is  missing  here  ?  Your  father  killed 
His  father,  and  the  mother-ground  he  tilled 
Where  he  himself  was  sown,  and  one  and  all, 
Getter  and  got,  have  one  original. 

These  will  be  your  reproaches  :  who  will  marry? 
Children,  there  will  be  none.  ’Tis  necessary 
That  you  should  wither  barren  and  unwed. 

Son  of  Menoeceus,  in  a  father’s  stead 
They’ve  only  you  ;  for  we  are  perished  now, 
The  pair  who  gave  them  birth.  Do  not  allow 
Husbandless  beggar  waifs  to  bear  your  name ; 
And  level  not  these  girls  to  match  my  shame. 


< 


KING  CEDIPUS 


61 


111  does  their  age  their  piteous  fortune  suit ; 

But  for  your  part,  they’re  wholly  destitute. 

Give  your  assent,  Sir, — touch  me  with  your 
hand. 

Children,  were  you  of  years  to  understand, 

I’d  give  you  much  advice :  now,  just  this 
prayer — 

Manage  to  live  as  season  may  allot  you, 

And  better  luck  be  yours  than  his  that  got  you. 


Cre .  Far  enough  in  lamentation.  Now  within  the 
house  repair. 

(Ed.  Choice  is  none,  and  yet  'tis  hard  consenting. 

Cre .  Fit  alone  makes  fair. 

(Ed.  Know  you  now  the  charter  of  my  going  ? 

Cre.  Speak  :  to  hear’s  to  know. 

(Ed.  Send  me  forth  to  dwell  in  exile. 

Cre.  What  you  ask  must  God  bestow. 

(Ed.  But  of  Gods  I  stand  abhorred. 

Cre.  So  shall  you  the  boon  obtain. 

(Ed.  Say  you  Ay  ? 

Cre.  I  like  not  speaking  where  I  know  my  words 
are  vain. 

(Ed.  Well,  ’tis  time,  you  must  remove  me. 

Cre.  Come,  and  let  the  children  go. 

(Ed.  Rob  me  not  of  them,  of  them  ! 

Cre.  You  must  not  think  in  all  to  reign. 

Reign  you  had,  and  life  is  left  you  :  honours 
proved  a  faithless  train. 

[. Exeunt  CEdipus,  Creon,  and  the  Children, 
while  the  Chorus  speak  the  Epilogue. 


t 


62  SOPHOCLES 

Cho.  O  inhabiters  of  Theb£,  look,  for  this  is  CEdipus, 

He  that  guessed  the  great  enigma,  he  of  men  all- 
glorious  : 

Him  the  people  never  envied,  and  he  kept  an 
eye  on  doom  ; 

Yet  what  seas  of  ill  engulf  him,  yet  what  awful 
waves  entomb  ! 

So  until  a  mortal  creature  sees  the  final  day  of  all, 

Happy  let  him  while  he  waits  and  watches  no 
man  living  call 

Till  the  homeward  race  has  touched  the  barrier 
free  from  hurt  or  fall.  [ Exeunt  omnes . 


OEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS 


Scene. — The  Hill  of  Colonos  near  Athens.  A  road  from 
Left  leads  to  the  Sacred  Grove  of  the  Eumenides , 
which  is  fenced  with  natural  rock  :  at  some  point 
in  its  circuit  the  rock  affords  a  natural  seat . 

Enter  CEdipus  and  Antigone,  weary  and  travel-stained , 

by  the  road  from  L. 

CEd.  Child  of  the  old  man  blind,  Antigone, 

What  lands  are  these  ?  In  whose  domains  are  we  ? 
Who  shall  to  CEdipus  the  homeless  waif 
The  daily  churlish  dole  to-day  vouchsafe  ? 

Little  enough  I  ask  for,  and  I  gain 
Less  than  my  little.  Let  me  not  complain. 
SufPring  and  Time -old  comrade  now  he’s 
reckoned — 

Teach  patience:  and  noblesse  is  there  to  second. 
But,  child,  if  any  place  to  sit  be  found 
Whether  in  holy  acre  or  common  ground, 

Set  me  and  found  me,  while  we  ascertain 
Our  whereabouts.  Strangers  we  come  to  ask 
Of  natives,  and  perform  the  bidden  task. 

Ant .  Poor  father,  CEdipus,  if  sight  be  proof 

The  walls  that  case  the  town  are  far  aloof. 

But  this  is  holy  ground,  as  I  suppose — 

So  rich  the  bay,  the  vine,  the  olive  grows  ; 

63 


64 


SOPHOCLES 


There  chant  within  it  nightingales  thick-flown. 
Here  lay  you  down  on  this  unpolished  stone. 
Long  miles  for  aged  limbs  you’ve  left  behind. 
(Ed.  Ay:  settle  me  down  here,  and  watch  the  blind. 

[Antigone  leads  him  to  the  seat  and  composes 
him  there . 

Ant .  ’Tis  not  Time’s  fault,  if  you  must  tell  me  that ! 
(Ed,  Say,  can  you  teach  me  what’s  the  place  we’re  at  ? 
Ant.  Athens (40) — I  know  so  much,  but  not  the  spot. 
(Ed.  That  much  from  every  passer-by  we  got. 

Ant.  Well,  shall  I  ask  direction  somewhere  near  ? 

(Ed.  Do  so,  child — if  ’tis  habitable  here. 

[A  Man  of  the  Country  is  descried  approaching 
quickly. 

Ant.  Nay,  better,  ’tis  inhabited.  I  doubt 
We  need  not — for  I  see  a  man  about. 

(Ed.  This  way  approaching  ?  He  begins  to  move  ? 

Enter  the  Countryman. 

Ant.  Why,  no,  for  now  he’s  reached  us !  Speak  you  can 
As  best  the  hour  advises — here’s  the  man. 

(Ed.  Friend,  since  a  seasonable  scout  you  prove. 

Well  met  to  clear  our  hesitations — she 

Whose  eyes  do  duty  for  herself  and  me - 

C.  Before  you  question  further,  quit  that  seat : 
You’re  on  forbidden  ground  for  human  feet. 

(Ed.  What  ground  is  this  ?  To  what  God  dedicate  ? 
C.  Inviolate,  uninhabited,  the  site 

Of  dread  powers,  daughters  of  the  Earth  and 
Night. 

(Ed.  Teach  me  to  pray  them  !  What’s  this  name  so 
great  ? 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  65 

C.  The  Kindly  Ones^  our  people  here  acclaim 
All-Seeing  :  place  for  place  likes  name  for  name. 
Ed.  In  grace  may  they  their  suppliant  receive  ! 

This  local  seat  I  never  more  will  leave. 

C.  What  is  this  thing  ? 

(Ed,  The  tally  of  my  Fate  ! 

C.  Well,  I  myself  am  loth,  unauthorised, 

To  move  you,  till  I  tell  and  be  advised. 

(Ed,  Disappoint  not  a  vagabond  like  me, 

In  God’s  name,  sir,  of  answer  to  my  plea  ! 

C.  Make  it  but  known — I’ll  disappoint  you  not. 
(Ed,  Tell  me,  the  ground  whereon  we  are  is — what  ? 
C.  What  I’ve  to  impart,  you  shall  not  be  denied. 
This  place  throughout  is  holy  :  in  it  abide 
Awful  Poseidon,  and  the  Titan  God 
Fire-charged  Prometheus;  whereyou  press  the  sod, 
Is  called  the  country’s  Threshold  Brazenshod,^ 
The  stay  of  Athens  ;  neighbouring  acres  boast 
Yon  knight  Colonos  patron  of  their  host, 

And  bearing  every  one  Colonos’  name 
Make  general  addition  of  the  same. 

There,  sir,  you  have  the  matter  :  in  the  telling 
Less  valued  than  with  intimate  indwelling. 

(Ed.  So  there  are  inmates  of  these  purlieus,  then  ? 

C.  Why,  surely  ;  the  God’s  namesakes  are  these  men. 
(Ed.  Subjects  ?  Or  with  the  people  lies  the  word  ? 

C.  By  the  King  in  town  are  we  administer’d. 

(Ed.  And  who’s  this  King  whose  writ  and  rod’s  all  one  ? 

C.  Theseus  he’s  called  :  the  old  King  Aegeus’  son. 
(Ed.  Could  one  of  you  to  him  go  emissary  ? 

C.  What  to  arrange  for,  and  what  word  to  carry  ? 
(Ed.  “That  little  help  may  gain  a  mighty  prize.” 

C.  What  help  is  in  a  man  with  sightless  eyes  ? 

E 


66 


SOPHOCLES 


(Ed.  The  words  I  speak  shall  all  be  words  of  seeing. 

C.  Hark  you,  sir,  how  to  make  no  blunder!  Being 
Gentle,  as  (save  this  act  of  God)  you  seem, 

Bide  here  where  first  I  found  you — I’ll  to  the  d£me 
And  tell  our  folks  the  matter,  then  and  there, 

— Not  in  the  city.  They  shall  now  declare 
If  you  may  bide  or  back  again  retire. 

[Exit  Countryman. 

(Ed.  Child,  is  the  Stranger  gone,  as  we  desire  ? 

Ant.  He’s  gone  ;  so,  father,  you  may  now  speak  out 
In  peace,  for  none  but  I  alone’s  about. 

(Ed.  ( in  attitude  of  prayer).  Dread-visaged  Ladies, 
whenas  your  retreat 

Proves  in  this  land  my  first  unbending  seat, 

O  cross  me  not,  and  cross  not  Phoebus’  will ! 
Who,  while  he  prophesied  me  all  that  ill, 

This  resting-place  in  length  of  days  bespake, 

A  final  country  reached,  where  I  should  take 
Guest’s  lodging  in  the  seat  of  Awful  Powers  ; 
There  I  must  homeward  turn  my  weary  hours, 
Settled  a  prize  for  them  that  domiciled  me, 

And  curse  upon  my  senders,  who  exiled  me  : 
Signs  there  must  come,  in  warrant  of  the  sam$, 
Earthquake  or  thunder,  or  the  Almighty’s  flame. 
Now  I  perceive  that  in  this  journeying 
Doubtless  ’tis  your  sure  auspices  that  bring 
Safe  home  to  this  your  grove  my  roaming  feet ; 
How  else  should  you  be  first  with  whom  I  meet — 
Abstemious  with  the  wineless, (44)  taking  place 
On  this  unaddiced  awful  floor  ?  A  grace, 

O  Goddesses  !  Apollo’s  voice  confirm  ! 

Give  me  a  consummation  and  a  term, 

Unless  you  find  me  still  too  little  worth, 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  67 


Ant. 


(Ed. 


Lackeying  the  highest  torment  known  on  earth  ! 
Consent,  sweet  Daughters  of  th’  old  Dark  ! 
Consent, 

City  that  bear’st  the  name  pre-eminent 
Of  Pallas,  Athens  prized  above  them  all  ! 

Pity  this  wretched  phantom  that  they  call 
CEdipus,  how  unlike  the  original ! 

[  The  Chorus  of  old  men  of  Colonos  are  seen 
approaching. 

Hush  !  here,  I  tell  you,  are  men  of  ancient  years 
Coming  towards  your  seat  as  overseers. 

I’ll  hold  my  peace,  and  you  my  feet  shall  turn 
Aside  within  the  precinct  while  I  learn 
The  purport  of  their  words.  In  learning  is 
The  circumspection  of  activities. 

[She  helps  him  up  the  rock  edge ,  and  he  disappears 
in  the  Sanctuary. 


Enter  the  Old  Men  of  Colonos :  they  scatter  and  search , 

singing — 

Cho .  Look  out !  Was  it — who  ?  Where  hideth  he  ? 
Where  has  he  flitted  apart  to  ?  Where  abideth 
he  ? 

The  arch-arch-unappeasable  ?<46> 

Gaze  right  hard,  peer  for  him  ! 

Search,  keep  sharp  ear  for  him ! 

A  wayfaring  old  man,  ’tis  a  wayfarer, 

None  born  here  !  to  approach  the  glades 
Never  trodden  of  man,  the  haunt, 

Holy  haunt,  of  the  mighty  Maids  ! 

Speak  not  the  name,  avaunt ! 

Never  a  sound — a  glance  were  sin  here  ! 


68 


SOPHOCLES 


Devout  souls  full  of  reverence 
Find  speechlessly  deliverance 
While  they  pass  it  : (46) — and  now  be  tidings 
Sacrilege’s  within  here. 

Yet  have  I  ne'er  found  tho’  I  spy  all  around 
In  the  sanctu’ry  ground  ; 

I  know  not  the  place  of  his  hiding. 
[CEdipus  discovers  himself \  slightly  above  them , 
within  the  precinct. 

Duet  in  March-Measure. 

CEd.  I  am  here,  I  am  he  : 

By  voice  do  I  see,  i’  the  phrase  of  the  saw. 

Cho.  Oh  !  oh  ! 

He’s  ghastly  to  see,  he’s  ghastly  to  hear  ! 

(Ed.  Judge  me  not,  I  plead,  as  a  breaker  of  law. 

Cho.  Mercy  on  us,  Zeus  !  What  may  the  man  be  ? 
(Ed.  Mine  is  not  all  that  a  destiny  can  be, 

Meet  for  a  blessing,  Lords  of  the  regions. 

Proof  of  it — how  by  these  alien  eyes 
Had  I  walked,  otherwise — 

Sheer-hulk  on  a  tiny  allegiance  ? 

Chorus. 

Cho.  Ay  me  !  For  the  eyes  blind  to  see  1 

Wast  thou  connately  a  creature  of  disaster? — 
Full  old  too,  to  the  best  of  guess. — 

Ne’er  tho’,  while  help  I  can, 

Shalt  thou  bring  down  the  ban ! 

A  trespass  !  a  trespass  !  V ery  warily 
Guard  thy  feet  fro’  the  lawns  o’  grass, — 

Silent  places  wherein  the  cup, 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  69 

From  sweet  sources  of  honey  drawn, 

Runs  with  a  welling-up 
Fountain  o’  water.  O  be  heedful ! 

Away,  stranger,  aloof !  the  path 
Fends  thee  amply,  O  man  of  wrath  ! 

Poor  waif,  in  the  woes  that  haunt  thee ! 

If  a  word  be  needful, 

If  with  me  you  have  aught,  yon  sanctu’ry  change 
For  the  free  common  range, 

Then  speak  :  ere  that  tho’  avaunt  thee  1 

(Ed.  Child,  which  quarter  of  mind  shall  I  make  for  ? 
Ant.  Best  to  agree,  sir,  with  the  rule  of  the  land, 

Both  hearken  and  yield  where  due  is. 

(Ed.  Handle  me  now  then. 

Ant.  There!  I  touch  thee. 

(Ed.  ( hesitating ).  O  Sir  !  I  pray  no  harm  may  be 
done  me 

When  I  come  loyally  yonder. 

Trio  sung  by  CEd.  Ant.  and  Chor.  during  his  descent. 

Cho.  Nay,  fear  not  at  all,  hence  never  shall  hand 
Force  thee  again,  rudely  to  wander. 

(Ed.  {beginning  to  clamber  down).  Advance  ? 

Ant.  Step  it  here,  proceeding. 

(Ed.  Again  ? 

Cho.  Set  him  onward,  leading  : 

Thine,  Maiden,  it  is  to  see. 

[ She  helps  him  down  the  broken  edge ,  going 
herself  before  him  and  guiding  his  steps. 
Ant.  Hither  away,  hither  a  sightless  footing 
Lift,  father,  and  follow  me. 


SOPHOCLES 


70 

Cho.  Mind  thee,  O  foreigner,  comfortless, 
In  strange  country  be  e’en  as  we ; 
Abominable  our  abhorrences, 

Holy  our  law  reputing. 


Ed.  Be  a  guide  to  me,  dear, 

Let  us  walk  in  the  pathway  of  righteousness 
I  will  say  my  say,  and  obey  their  way, 

The  fight  with  necessity  waiving. 


Cho .  Just  so  :  bend  not  again  steps  beyond  here, — 
The  bronze  rock-semblance  of  paving.^47) 
(Ed.  So  ? 

Cho.  Better  obey  my  meaning. 

Ed.  Here  sit  ? 

Cho.  A  bit  hither  leaning. 

Drop  slant  by  the  edge  of  rock. 

Ant.  It  is  for  me,  this  :  a  foot  to  earth  place 
So,  step  to  step  gently  lock. 

Ed.  Ah  me  !  Ah  ! 

Ant.  Lovingly  upon  an  arm  of  mine 
The  old  rickety  limbs  incline. 

Ed.  O  hard-hearted  afflictions  ! 

Cho.  So  rest  easy,  O  weary  heart : 

Name  thee  now — of  what  human  stock  ? 
Who  so  calamitously  led  ?  Impart, 

And  let  us  hear  thy  birthplace. 


Ed.  O  good  sirs, 

All  homeless  am  I  :  refrain  ! 

Cho.  Nay — a  refusal — old  man,  why  ? 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  71 

(Ed.  No,  no,  no  !  Never  ask  my  secret, 

Nor  question  about  me  idly  seeking ! 

Cho .  What’s  this? 

(Ed.  Born  horribly  ! 

Cho.  Speak  it! 

CEd.  Shall  I —  Child,  child  ! — shall  I  tell  them  ? 

Cho .  Of  what  seed  gendered  art,  foreigner,  fathered 
of  whom  ? 

(Ed.  O,  my  child,  what  is  to  become  of  me  ? 

Ant.  Tell  it  out :  to  the  edge  thou  art  driven. 

(Ed.  Speak  I  will  :  power  have  I  none  left  to 
conceal. 

Cho.  Y e  are  long  with  your  loitering  :  haste  thee  1 
(Ed.  Lai’os’  son  do  you  know  ? 

Cho.  Oh  !  oh  !  oh  ! 

(Ed.  And  the  children  of  Labdacus  ? 

Cho.  O  Zeus! 

CEd.  Miserable  GEdipodas  ? 

Cho.  So  it  is  he  ? 

(Ed.  Nay,  be  not  alarmed  at  my  story. 

Cho.  Oh  !  oh  !  oh  !  oh  !  Cursed  one  !  Oh  !  oh  ! 
CEd.  O  daughter  of  mine,  what  awaits  us  ? 

Cho.  Out,  out!  Forth,  forth!  Quit  you  the  country  ! 
CEd.  And  the  warranty — how  will  ye  keep  it  ? 


Cho.  Never  a  destiny  falls  to  requite  the  requiter  of 
infamy  done. 

’Tis  a  fraud  to  a  fraud  and  a  like  to  a  like,  and 
the  other  a  match  for  the  one. 

Not  a  grace  to  repay  but  a  trouble  to  render  : 

aloof  from  the  land  and  away 
From  the  holy  retreat  with  a  bound  ! 


72 


SOPHOCLES 


For  I  doubt,  to  my  country’s  ground 
No  good  thy  touch  will  gender  ! 

Monody.(48> 

Ant.  Merciful-spirited  sirs,  here  dwelling, 

Tho’  you  could  not  abide  to  behold 
Father — his  blindness  ;  because  Fame  told 
Those  un purposed  acts  he  fell  in, 

Still,  we  beseech  you  adoringly,  ear  to  my  misery, 
mine — 

Ear  incline, — 

Suppliant  here  in  my  wreck’d  sire’s  cause  to 
you,— 

Cause  that  I  plead  with  you,  eye  to  eye  gaze  at 
you,— 

Eyes  not  of  blindness  mine — e’en  as  if  I  were  a 
Vision  of  kindred  aris’n  to  you — O  let  his 
Woes  find  mercy  !  on  you  as  a  God’s  will 
Hang  we  in  helplessness  ;  O  by  a  n^iracle,  yet  be 
benign  !  Give  a  sign  ! 

O  by  the  dearest  of  thine  do  I  plead  with  thee, — 
Child  be  it,  wife  be  it,  chattel  or  God  be  it ! 
Scan  you  the  world,  you  shall  never  a  man 
behold 

Able  to  escape 
Whenso  God  will  lead  him. 


Cho .  Daughter  of  CEdipus,  be  sure  we  take 
Pity  on  both  for  your  affliction’s  sake, 

But  pious  apprehensions  must  withhold 
From  speaking  further  than  what  you’ve  been 
told. 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  73 

(Ed.  Ah  !  What  forsooth  does  fair  opinion  boot, 

And  idle  current  of  a  good  repute  ? 

Athens  they  call  a  most  God-fearing  land, 

Able  alone  to  rescue,  fit  to  stand 
Protectress  to  the  stranger’s  tribulation  : 

Where  do  I  find  it  ?  From  my  sacred  station 
You  dispossess  me  and  rebuff  me  though  : 

Afraid  of  just  a  name,  because  I  know 
Not  for  my  person  nor  my  deeds  you  care, 

More  sinned  against  than  sinning  as  they  were  ; 
— If  I  must  needs  of  father  and  mother  tell ; 

For  this  you  fear  me  :  that  I  know  full  well. 

But  how  can  I  be  naturally  vile  ? 

I  did  as  done  by  :  had  I  known  the  while 
I  acted,  where’s  the  vileness  e’en  in  that  ? 

But  no  :  I  reached  the  point  I  ended  at, 
Unwitting  :  they  were  wilful  murderers. 
Therefore  in  God’s  name  I  beseech  you,  sirs, 

As  you  have  dispossest  me,  so  restore ; 

Make  not  the  Gods,  the  Gods  whom  you  adore, 
To  be  of  none  account.  Be  this  your  creed  : 

Of  good  men  in  the  world  they  take  good  heed, 
Good  heed  of  the  evil-doer  ;  when  indeed 
Did  wicked  men  escape  ?  I  pray  you,  mark, 
And  blot  not  blessed  Athens  with  a  dark 
Ministering  to  practices  abhorrent : 

You  took  me  as  a  votary  in  your  warrant, 

Rescue  me  also  and  keep  me.  Do  not  see 
With  disregard  the  unsightliness  in  me. 

Sacred  I  come  and  holy,  and  I  bring 
A  blessing  on  these  burghers.  When  your  King 
Arrives,  the  empowered  spokesman  of  the  rest, 
Then  while  you  listen  all  shall  be  confest. 
Meanwhile  be  not  unkind  to  my  request. 


74  SOPHOCLES 

Chorus  Leader .  These  cogitations  my  alarm  have 
raised, 

And  cause  enough,  old  sir;  no  lightly-phrased 
Announcement  this  ;  but  I’m  well  satisfied 
To  leave  it  with  our  master  to  decide. 

(Ed.  And  where  may  be  your  country’s  arbiter  ? 

Lea.  In  the  Capital.  The  same  observer  hies 
To  fetch  him,  who  my  coming  did  advise. 

Ed.  And  will  he  have  regard,  do  you  surmise, 

Or  care  to  come  and  meet  with  sightless  eyes  ? 
[Lea.  O  surely  if  he  do  but  hear  your  name. 

Ed.  That  word,  to  him  who  is  there  can  proclaim  ? 
Lea.  The  road  is  long  ;  and  every  passenger 

Sets  rumour  roving,  and  he’ll  hear  the  same  :] (49) 
Take  courage  ;  he  will  come.  For,  aged  sir, 
You  are  much  noised  abroad  ;  let  him  but  catch 
Your  name — dull  ease  will  turn  to  quick  de¬ 
spatch. 

Ed.  Luck  for  his  realm  and  luck  for  me  attend 

His  coming  !  Self’s  an  honest  man’s  good  friend  ! 


Ant .  [in great  agitation ,  staring  along  the  road  R.).  Zeus, 
give  me  the  word  !  O  fix  my  thoughts 
for  me  ! 

Ed.  What  ails  you,  child,  Antigone  ? 

Ant .  I  see 

A  woman — she  approaches  us  :  she  rides 
A  steed  of  iEtna ;  but  her  face  she  hides 
Under  a  shady-brimmed  Thessalian  beaver/60^ 
Heigho  ! 

Is’t  Yes  or  No  ?  Soul  says — dare  I  believe  her  ? 
Heaven  help  me  ! 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  75 

It  is  none  other  !  Yes,  with  beaming  eyes 
Greeting  me  as  she  nears,  she  signifies 
“  Sister  Ismene — ’tis  none  else  than  she  !  ” 

CEd.  What’s  that,  my  child  ? 

Ant.  My  sister  that  I  see  ! 

Your  child — and  now  her  voice  shall  prove  it  you. 

Enter  Ismene  as  described ,  but  dismounted.  The  horse 

does  not  appear. 

Ism.  Father  and  sister,  O  the  sweetest  two 

Names  of  accost  !  I’ve  hardly  the  heart,  for  pain, 
To  look  on  you,  so  hardly  found  again  ! 

CEd.  O  child,  you’re  there  ? 

Ism.  O  father  !  O  martyrdom  ! 

CEd.  Child,  you’ve  appeared  ? 

Ism.  And  work  it  was  to  come  ! 

CEd.  Handle  me,  child  ! 

Ism.  I  touch  you  both  as  one. 

Ant.  O  sister  ! 

Ism.  Two  sad  lives  in  unison  ! 

CEd.  Her  life  and  mine  ? 

Ism.  I  join  the  unhappy  pair. 

CEd.  Why  came  you,  child  ? 

Ism.  Father,  in  filial  care. 

CEd.  Love  longing  ? 

Ism.  I’m  own-messenger  as  well 

(With  one  sole  trusty  slave)  of  news  to  tell. 

CEd.  Your  brothers,  though  —  where’s  their  hard¬ 
working  prime  ? 

Ism.  They’re  where  they  are  :  for  them  ’tis  no  good 
time. 

CEd.  How  they  are  shaped  to  the  similitude 

Of  Egypt’s  manners/61)  in  their  life  and  mood  ! 


76 


SOPHOCLES 


That  is  the  country  where  the  males  abide 
Weaving  at  home  ;  their  helpmates  must  provide 
The  outdoor  work  that  wins  the  daily  bread. 
They  who  should  take  their  duty  in  your  stead, 
Sit  like  home-keeping  damsels  in  the  home, 
While  you  for  them  accept  the  wearisome 
Charge  of  my  misery.  One,  since  first  she  came 
From  child’s  estate  to  strength  matured  of  frame, 
Condemned  to  wait  upon  my  aimless  way, 

Plays  old  man’s  nurse  ;  and  many  a  time  astray, 
Shoeless,  unvictualled  in  the  forest  wild, 

Oft  vexed  with  rains  and  burning  suns,  poor 
child, 

Counts  life  at  home  as  but  a  second  good, 

“  My  father  first  must  have  his  livelihood." 

And  you,  my  child,  gave  Thebes  the  slip  before, 
And  reached  me,  bringing  all  the  oracular  lore 
About  this  body  of  mine.  A  faithful  guard 
You’ve  stood  by  me  when  I  was  banned  and 
barred. 

And  now,  Ismene,  what’s  the  tale  you  bring 
From  home  ?  What  errand  set  you  voyaging  ? 
You  come  not  empty — that  I  know  full  well ; 
Some  word  of  dread  you  will  not  fail  to  tell. 

Ism .  The  rude  mischances,  father,  I  had  to  chance, 
Seeking  your  whereabouts  of  maintenance, 

I  will  let  pass,  for  I  desire  not  pain 
Twofold,  of  effort  and  in  story  again. 

’Tis  of  your  luckless  sons,  their  present  sort 
Of  trouble,  that  I  travelled  to  report. 

’Twixt  them  and  Creon  there  was  first  debate 
To  yield  the  crown  and  not  pollute  the  state — 
A  strife  of  reason  on  the  old  blood-taint 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  77 

Which  grips  your  hapless  house  in  such  con¬ 
straint  ; 

But  (God  knows  why,  and  their  bedevilled  mind) 
Thrice  wretched  !  now  they’re  ta'en  with  strife 
less  kind 

To  clutch  at  sovereignty  and  royal  state. 

The  youthful  one,  that's  born  of  lesser  date, 
Would  oust  the  elder  from  the  government ; 
And  Polyneices  is  to  exile  sent. 

But  he,  or  so  with  us  obtained  the  tale, 

A  banished  man,  at  Argos  in  the  Vale, 

Accepts  a  match  and  banded  kinsmen’s  shields — 
“  Or  Argosfi  thinks  he,  “or  Cadmean  fields :  ” 

“  Throned  conqueror — or  my  friends  the  heaven 
shall  walk  !  ” 

Father,  this  is  no  ciphering-up  of  talk, 

But  dreadful  act.  Which  way  the  Gods  will  end, 
Pitying  your  pain,  I  cannot  apprehend. 

(Ed.  Why,  had  you  any  hope  the  Gods  would  cast 
An  eye  on  me,  and  I  be  saved  at  last  ? 

Ism .  Y es,  father  ;  since  the  oracle  replied. 

(Ed.  What’s  this  reply  ?  Child,  what's  been  pro¬ 
phesied  ? 

Ism.  Search  after  you  your  countrymen  shall  make, 
Dead  or  alive,  for  their  well-being’s  sake. 

(Ed.  Whose  welfare  can  depend  on  such  as  me  ? 

Ism.  They  say  you  hold  their  royalty  in  fee. 

(Ed.  Am  I,  a  dead  man,  reckoned  among  men  ? 

Ism.  Yes,  now  the  Gods  upraise,  who  wrecked  you 
then. 

(Ed.  Fall’n  in  my  prime — upraised  in  eld — what  profit  ? 
Ism.  And  Creon,  I  can  tell  you,  comes  anon — 

No  world-without-end  waiting — bent  thereon. 


SOPHOCLES 


78 

(Ed.  Interpret,  daughter — what's  the  purpose  of  it  ? 

Ism.  To  have  you  planted  near  their  land,  and  yet, 
Safe-held,  no  foot  within  the  marches  set. 

(Ed.  Placed  at  their  gates  ? — What  good  is  there  in 
this  ? 

Ism.  'Tis  their  affliction  if  your  grave’s  amiss. 

(Ed.  So  wit  may  guess,  and  take  God’s  word  on  trust. 

Ism.  Therefore  they  like  you  not  at  large,  but  would 
Adopt  you  nearly  to  their  neighbourhood. 

(Ed.  And  lay  me  in  the  shade  of  Theban  dust  ? 

Ism.  Intestine  blood  ? — No,  father,  it  could  not  be. 

(Ed.  Then  they  shall  not  possess  themselves  of  me. 

Ism.  Then  heavy  shall  be  Thebes’  punishment. 

(Ed.  Daughter,  in  what  conjuncture  of  event  ? 

Ism.  Your  anger  :  when  they  form  beside  your  grave. 

(Ed.  [after  a  pause  of  meditation).  Whence  had  you  heard 
the  tidings  that  you  gave  ? 

Ism.  A  Mission  from  the  Hearth  of  Delphi  came. 

(Ed.  Phoebus  himself  did  so  of  me  proclaim  ? 

Ism.  Such  was  the  message  brought  to  Theban  land. 

(Ed.  Did  any  of  my  sons  so  understand  ? 

Ism.  Ay,  both  alike,  and  learned  the  lesson  well. 

(Ed.  And  then  the  scoundrels,  after  all  they’d  heard, 
A  kingdom  to  their  love  for  me  preferred  ? 

Ism.  ’Tis  painful  telling,  yet  I  needs  must  tell. 

(Ed.  O  that  the  Gods  may  never  quench  that  feud 
Predestined,  and  O  that  I  were  endued 
With  power  to  rule  their  issues,  in  this  fight 
They  hanker  after  and  set  spears  upright ; — 
That  neither  may  the  one  abide  who  held 
Sceptre  and  sovereignties,  and  that  the  expelled 
Come  home  no  more  !  When  I  was  thrust  away 
Thus  foully  from  my  home,  they  would  not  stay 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  79 

Nor  succour  him  that  got  them  :  dispossest 
They  let  me  go,  a  vagabond  profest. 

You  tell  me  “  so  was  then  supposed  my  pleasure, 
Well  might  the  State  approve  a  gracious 
measure  ”  : 

Oh  no  !  for,  look  you,  on  the  very  day 
And  instant  when  my  boiling  spirit  could  pray 
For  nothing  else  but  to  be  stoned  and  die, 

Then  to  abet  my  passion  none  was  nigh ; 

But  late,  when  pain  was  grown  to  mellowness 
And  I  began  to  feel  that  heat’s  excess 
Had  proved  chastiser  ev’n  beyond  the  crime, — 
Then  was  it  that  the  people,  late  in  time, 
Thought  to  exile  me  by  compulsion  ;  then 
When  father’s  sons  were  father’s  hope,  these 
men 

Refused  the  endeavour,  and  for  one  word’s  sake  (62> 
Saw  me,  an  outlawed  foreign  beggar,  take 
The  wanderer’s  road.  For  family  comfort,  food, 
And  charter  of  rest  (so  far  as  aptitude 
Of  Nature  serves)  these  girls  I  have  to  thank. 
They  chose  instead  of  me,  their  parent,  rank 
And  royal  sway,  the  sceptre  and  the  throne. 

But  never  shall  they  count  me  for  their  own 
To  help  them  ;  never  of  their  Cadmean  reign 
Shall  blessing  come  :  I  know  it,  schooled  again 
By  her  report  of  the  oracles,  and  schooled 
By  thinking  out  what  long  since  Phoebus  ruled 
Should  be  my  doom.  So  now  they  may  despatch  me 
Creon  and  all  their  mighty  men  to  catch  me. 

[Turning  to  the  Chorus. 
For,  sirs,  if  you  will  please  with  these  divine 
Grave  Patronesses^  of  the  place  combine 


8o 


SOPHOCLES 


To  make  a  brave  defence,  your  State  shall  gain 
A  mighty  helper,  and  your  foemen  pain. 

L.  of  Cho.  Right  worthy,  CEdipus,  of  our  compassion, 
You  and  these  girls  !  But  now  that  in  this 
fashion 

You  introduce  yourself  our  people’s  saviour, 

I  would  advise  you  of  a  due  behaviour. 

(Ed.  Sweet  friend,  be  minister,  and  I’ll  perform. 

L.  of  Cho.  Offer  atonement  to  the  Powers  whose  sod, 
Your  earliest  entertainers,  you  have  trod. 

(Ed.  What  is  the  manner  of  it  ?  Sirs,  inform. 

L.  of  Cho.  First  with  the  touch  of  holy  fingers  bring 
Ritual  draught  from  ever-flowing  spring. 

(Ed.  And  after  I  the  unsullied  flood  have  got  ? 

L.  of  Cho.  Bowls  you  will  find,  of  master’s  handicraft : 
Wreathe  round  the  brow  and  mouthpiece  fore 
and  aft. 

(Ed.  With  blossoms  or  with  yarn  of  wool,  or  what? 
L.  of  Cho.  Put  the  new-shorn  fleece  of  a  yearling  ewe. 
(Ed.  So  be  it :  after  that  what  must  I  do  ? 

L.  of  Cho.  Pour  a  libation  facing  prime  of  dawn. 

(Ed.  Drink,  in  the  vessels  that  you  speak  of,  drawn  ? 
L.  of  Cho.  Three  streams,  I  tell  you;  and  the  last 
entire. 

(Ed.  Put  full  of  what,  this  last  ?  I  must  inquire. 

L.  of  Cho.  Water — theBee — but  no  strong  liquor  add.(54> 
(Ed.  And  when  black-leaf’d  earth  hath  such  tribute 
had  ? 

L.  of  Cho.  With  both  your  hands  put  thrice  nine 
branches  down 

Of  olive,  and  with  prayers  your  offering  crown. 
(Ed.  ’Tis  these  I  fain  would  hear — they  are  the  chief. 
Cho.  Kindly  we  call  them ,  that  they  yield  relief 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  81 


JVith  kindly  bosoms  to  their  votary  : 

Pray  this,  yourself,  or  else  by  deputy, 

Unheard  in  utterance — raising  no  loud  cry  ; 
Then  go,  but  never  turn  about/55)  And  I 
Will  gladly  be  your  friend  if  so  you  do  ; 

Else,  stranger,  I’d  be  ill  at  ease  for  you. 

(Ed.  Children,  d’you  hear  these  worthies  of  the  land  ? 
Ant.  We  heard  :  ’tis  yours  our  action  to  command. 
(Ed.  I  cannot  foot  it,  being  handicapt 

With  feebleness  and  blindness,  twice  unapt. 

Go,  one  of  you,  see  to  the  accomplishment. 

One  soul  may  in  such  office  represent 
Ten  thousand,  with  goodwill,  as  I  believe. 

Only  make  haste  to  act,  and  do  not  leave 
Me  solitary :  too  weak  my  limbs  would  prove 
Alone  without  a  guiding  hand  to  move. 

Ism.  Then  I’ll  go  celebrate.  But  first  I  ask 

Where  shall  I  find  the  place  to  do  the  task  ? 

Cho.  Beyond  the  grove  here,  mistress.  Should  you 
lack 

For  aught,  the  keeper’ll  put  you  on  the  track. 
Ism.  I’m  going.  You,  Antigone,  must  mount 

Guard  on  our  father  :  children  may  not  count 
Toil  toilsome  on  such  dutiful  account. 

[Exit  Ismene. 


F 


82 


SOPHOCLES 


Duet  :  CE dipus  and  Chorus. 

Cho.  Although  dreadful  it  is, 

Sire,  to  arouse, 

Laid  misery's 
Late  reappearing, 

Mine  ear  is  enamoured  of  hearing. 

CEd.  What  mean  ye  ? 

Cho.  That  anguish,  desperate  ere  discovered, 

Which  cruelly  did  waylay  thee. 

CEd.  Kind  host,  never  ope,  I  pray  thee, 

Those  merciless  hurts  I  suffered  ! 

Cho.  Why  rumour's  abroad  ceaselessly  preaching: 

I’d  fain  learn  truth  o’  the  common  story. 

(Ed.  Oh  !  oh  ! 

Cho.  Listen  to  beseeching  ! 

(Ed.  O  grief. 

Cho.  Consent :  I  too  did  accord  what  thy  prayer  pled. 

(Ed.  Most  foul  sins  did  I  bear  ; 

— Not  that  I  chose — 

Burden  they  were 
Dealt  me,  God  knows  it ! 

Of  none  can  ye  say  that  I  chose  it. 

Cho.  The  case  though  ? 

(Ed.  To  bond  most  impious — all  unwilling — 

Of  marriage  a  folk  did  hold  me  : 

Cho.  With  motherly — so  they  told  me — 

Mis-bridal  your  bed  fulfilling  ? 

(Ed.  Ah  me  !  ’tis  a  death  while  he  rehearses  ! 

These  girls  this  couple  are  of  me  gendered — 
Cho.  How  say’st  ? 

(Ed.  Rather  a  couple  o’  curses  ! — 

Cho.  O  Zeus ! 

(Ed.  — From  selfsame  motherly  pang  as  I  were  bred 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  83 


Cho. 
Ed. 
Cho . 
(Ed. 

Cho. 
Ed. 
Cho . 
Ed. 
Cho. 
Ed. 


Cho. 

Ed. 

Cho. 

Ed. 

Cho. 

Ed. 

Cho. 

Ed. 

Cho. 

Ed. 


They’re  thy  progeny,  then — ay,  but  yet  .  .  . 
Blood-sisterly  to  who  did  beget. 

Alas ! 

Alas !  troops  of  ills  enough  engage  me 
thousandfold. 

Sufferer  !  .  .  . 

O’  suffering  I’m  adept ! 

A  sinner.  .  .  . 

Oh  !  no  sinner  ! 

.  .  .  Aha  ? 

I  did  accept 

Guerdon  o’  services :  oh  that  I  ne’er  had  had 
Their  choice  reward  !  O  misery  never  ending  ! 


Unfortunate — eh  ?  A  murderer.  .  .  . 

What  mean  ye  ?  Will  ye  yet  ask  me,  sir  ? 

.  .  .  Of  father  ? 

Ah  !  Wounded  once  again! 

New  malady  on  the  old  ! 

A  felon.  .  .  . 

A  felon  :  and  yet  as  well — 

What  say  you  ? 

I  can  plead  that  .  .  . 

That  .  .  .  ?  Eh  ? 

I  now  will  tell : 

They  that  I  slew  would  have  else  made  an  end 
o’  me ; 

So  clear  i’  the  law  I  sinn’d,  unapprehending. 


84  SOPHOCLES 

Look  !  Theseus,  Aegeus’  son,  I  see  appear 
To  test  the  promise  of  his  errand  here. 

Enter  Theseus,  attended . 

The.  I’ve  heard  (for  long  since  rumour  did  apprise) 
Of  the  ensanguined  havoc  of  your  eyes  : 

I  knew  you,  son  of  Laios — and  to-day 
Still  more  from  all  I’ve  heard  upon  my  way. 
This  habit  and  this  doleful  person  both 
Declare  you  for  yourself  :  I  am  not  loth 
To  ask,  poor  GEdipus,  in  pity  what 
Petition  for  the  land  and  me  you’ve  got, — 

You  and  the  poor  companion  suppliant  there. 
Inform  me.  Grim  in  truth  must  be  the  affair 
That  you  could  name,  to  make  me  stand  averse 
I  mind  I  too  was  bred  with  foreigners, 

Abroad  ;  in  my  own  person  not  a  few 
Venturous  bouts  enough  have  I  been  through. 
So  I  will  never  from  a  stranger’s  face 
Turn  (such  as  now  are  you)  to  grudge  him  grace 
I  know  myself  for  man  :  on  days  beyond 
To-day,  nor  you  nor  I  have  any  bond. 

CEd.  Briefly  absolved  by  your  great-heartedness, 
Theseus,  I  need  to  tell  you  all  the  less. 

You  rightly  name  me,  who  I  am,  and  name 
My  father  and  the  land  from  whence  I  came  : 
So  there  is  nothing  left  me  to  be  said 
Except  my  wish,  and  then  the  talk  is  sped. 

The.  Just  that,  for  me  to  learn,  you  must  express. 
Ed.  I  come  this  wretched  carcass  to  bestow 

On  you  ;  of  little  worth  in  outward  show, 

But  yielding  gains  to  outmatch  the  comeliness. 
The.  What  is  this  gain  your  visit  claims  to  bear  ? 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  85 


CEd.  Time — not,  I  think,  the  present — will  declare. 
The.  To  this  accession  what  shall  testify  ? 

CEd.  Your  burying  of  me  when  I  shall  die. 

The.  You  ask  the  last  of  life  ;  days  that  precede 
You  have  forgotten,  or  you  do  not  heed. 

CEd.  Because  in  the  one  the  rest  is  all  conveyed. 

The.  ’Tis  slight  enough,  the  favour  that  you’ve  prayed  ! 
CEd.  Ah !  look  you  well  !  No  petty  cause  is  this  ! 
The.  You  mean  your  children’s  and  my  destinies  ? 

CEd.  They  now  coerce  me  thither  to  remove. 

The.  Ill  suits  your  exile  when  they  disapprove. 

CEd.  When  ’twas  my  pleasure  they  would  not  concede. 
The.  O  foolish  !  Temper  ill  assorts  with  need. 

CEd.  When  you  have  heard,  advise !  Till  then,  refrain. 
The.  I  must  not  speak  without  my  book.  Explain. 
CEd .  Foul  usage  upon  foul  has  been  my  fate. 

The.  Will  you  the  old  ruin  of  your  house  relate  ? 

CEd.  No,  no  !  that’s  buzzed  in  Hellas  far  and  wide. 
The.  What  superhuman  plague  of  yours  beside  ? 

CEd.  My  case  is  this  :  I  was  despatched  to  roam 
By  my  own  seed  ;  and  ever  to  come  home 
I  am  forbidden  as  parenticide. 

The.  But  if  you’re  fetched  how  can  you  dwell  apart  ? 
CEd.  The  mouth  of  God  perforce  will  turn  their  heart. 
The.  What  mischief  do  the  prophets  bid  them  fear  ? 
CEd.  Doom  that  ordains  they  must  be  beaten  here. 
The.  ’Twixt  them  and  me  what  sour  could  interfere  ? 
CEd.  Sweet  son  of  Aegeus,  to  the  Gods  alone 

Eld  comes  not  and  the  turn  to  die’s  unknown  : 
All  else  does  Time  the  omnipotent  confound. 
Strength  of  the  body  wastes  and  strength  of 
ground ; 

Perishes  faith,  unfaithfulness  is  rife  : 


86 


SOPHOCLES 


And  nowhere  steady  sits  the  wind  of  life, 

’Twixt  friend  and  friend,  from  nation  towards 
nation. 

Or  late  or  soon,  for  each  his  alteration, 

Sweet  turns  to  bitter  and  again  to  kind. 

Tho’  now  in  your  regard  the  Theban  mind 
Is  all  fair-weather,  Time  he  goes  his  ways 
And  myriad  Time  breeds  myriad  nights  and  days, 
Wherein  to-day's  harmonious  bond  they’ll  scatter 
With  steel,  upon  pretence  of  little  matter  : 

Then  time  shall  be,  my  body,  covered  up 
At  rest  and  cold,  of  their  hot  blood  shall  sup  ; 

If  Zeus  be  still  Zeus  and  his  Son  be  true. 

I  like  not  blabbing  holy  secrets.  Do 
But  let  me  be  where  I  began,  maintain 
Your  plighted  honour  ;  you  shall  not  complain 
That  you  received  a  useless  refugee 
In  CEdipus,  if  Gods  keep  faith  with  me. 

Chorus  Leader .  This  promise  and  the  like  of  this  he  still 
Assures  the  land,  O  King,  he  will  fulfil. 

The.  Kindness  in  such  a  quarter  who'll  disown  ? 

Not  mutual  hearth  and  comrade  ties  alone 
Unite  us  ever,  but  his  visit  is 
A  pilgrim’s  homage  to  the  Goddesses, 

And  to  the  land  and  me  pays  no  small  dues. 

All  this  respecting,  I  will  not  refuse 

His  grace,  but  of  the  country  plant  him  free. 

If  here  the  stranger  has  a  mind  to  be 
I  will  appoint  you  guardian  : — or  set  on 
(If  that's  your  pleasure)  CEdipus,  with  me. 
Choose  freely  :  I  will  go  the  way  you’ve  gone. 
(Ed.  O  Zeus  !  may  such  as  he  be  prosperous  ! 

The.  But  what’s  your  will  ?  Set  on  for  home  with  us  ? 


OEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  87 


Ed.  Had  it  been  granted  me  !  But  here’s  the  spot — 
The.  Where  what  must  be  ?  I  will  gainsay  you  not. 
(Ed.  Where  I  shall  vanquish  them  that  cast  me  out. 
The.  Great  prize  of  your  abiding,  this,  no  doubt. 

(Ed.  If  you're  steadfast  your  promise  to  fulfil. 

The.  Here  stands  a  man  of  honour  :  that  I  will. 

Ed.  I  will  not  bid  you  swear,  like  rogues,  for  bond. 
The.  No,  it  were  but  a  verbal  tie  beyond. 

Ed.  What  will  you  do  then  ? 

The.  What  d'you  tremble  at  ? 

Ed.  There  will  come  men — 

The.  These  here  will  see  to  that. 

Ed.  Look,  you  forsake  me — 

The.  Teach  me  not  my  part ! 

Ed.  I  needs  must,  trembling — 

The.  Mine's  no  trembler's  heart. 

Ed.  Their  threats  you  know  not — 

The.  One  thing  I  can  say  : 

In  my  despite  none  carries  you  away. 

Oh,  threats  have  often  threatened  loud  in  vain 
And  long  in  anger  ;  let  the  mind  regain 
His  self-control,  and  threatenings,  where  are  they  ? 
Heartened  they  may  have  been,  no  doubt,  to  say 
Dread  things  of  carrying  off :  I  know  they'll 
find 

Long  seas  between,  to  navigate  unkind  ! 

And  mind  you,  Phoebus  (my  resolve  apart), 
Speeds  you — I  justify  a  cheerful  heart ; 

And  even  in  the  absence  of  my  arm 
My  name  will  warrant  that  you  take  no  harm. 

[Exit  Theseus. 


88 


SOPHOCLES 


[Turn.)  Chorus. 

Rest  here,  friend  :  for  the  Land  of  Horses 
Knows  no  better  abode  in  all  the  region, 

The  white  mound  o’  Colonos,  where 
Nightingales  of  a  choice  repair, 

With  sweet  melody  murmur'd  soft  in 
Fresh  green  copses  abounding  ; 

The  flushed  ivy  she  keeps  aloft  in, 
Thick-set  bosky  surrounding 
Haunts  o’  the  God  where  the  berries  are  legion  ! 

Never  a  wintry  wind  dishevels 
Bacchus’  close,  never  hot  sun  forces 

These  shy  swards  where  he  loves  to  lead  the 
revels, 

Nymphs  to  nurse  and  to  tend  his  courses  ! 

( Counter-turn .) 

Day  by  day  where  a  cream  of  dews  is 
Shed,  narcissus  erects  a  lovely  cluster ; 

Long  since  used  for  a  coronal 
Wreathing  Mother  and  Maid  withal. 

Here  beam  rays  o’  the  crocus  golden  ; 

Here  unslumbering  waters 
Each  day  range  ever  unwithholden, 

Old  Cephisos’  daughters. 

Swift  to  creation,  he  runs  with  a  lustre 
Got  of  the  raindrops  unpolluted 
O’er  a  bosom  of  lands,  the  Muses 

Love  and  leave  i’  the  dance  not  unreputed, 
And  golden-rein’d  Aphrodite  chooses. 


/A  7 


CONTEST  OF  ATHENA  AND  POSEIDON  FOR  THE  ATTIC  LAND 


From  a  Vase  in  the  Hermitage  Museum  at  S.  Petersburg. 

$th  Century  B.C. 


89 


I 


* 


90 


SOPHOCLES 


(2 nd  Turn.) 

There's  one  glory  o'  these 
Fields,  of  all  fields 

Known  to  my  hearing 
Which  not  Asia  yields  : 

Peloponnese' 

Broad  heritance 

Boasts  not  a  rearing  : 
Th’  uncultivated 
Plant,  self-created  ; 

The  terror  of  the  foeman's  lance  ; 
They  fill  the  ground  in 
A  rich  abounding — 

Grey-greenleaved  olive-trees, 

Lusty  to  nourish  : 

Which  youth  enraged 
And  captain  aged 

Vainly  strives  to  reduce, 
Hacking  amain  : 

Havoc  is  vain, 

For  the  eye  of  Zeus 
Watches  aye  and  wi'  steely  glance 
Pallas  sees  that  they  flourish  ! 


GEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  91 


(2 nd  Counter-turn .) 

Once  more,  Mother  o'  Towns, 

Praise  be  rehearsed, 

Title  of  honour  1 
No  mean  Deity  erst, — 

Crown  of  her  crowns, 

Pride  o'  the  place — 

Laid  this  upon  her  : 

Renown  for  oarscraft, 

For  steeds  and  horsecraft. 

O  Son  of  Cronos,  by  the  grace 
Of  thee,  Poseidon, 

She  puts  this  pride  on  : 

These  our  streets  were  the  first, 

Here  did  he  render 

The  Horse  not  idle 
By  Bit  and  Bridle. 

And  our  oarages  leap 
Peerlessly  mann'd 
Over  the  deep, 

Fitted  apt  to  the  hand  ; 

Five-score-footing,  a  Mermaid  race 
Takes  our  bark  for  a  tender ! 


SOPHOCLES 


92 

Ant . 

CEd . 

(Ed . 


Cr*. 


O  region  highly  magnified  in  praise, 

’Tis  time  to  illustrate  the  glorious  phrase  ! 

Why,  child,  what  news  ? 

O  father,  Creon  ’tis 

Approaching,  and  a  troop  of  men  of  his. 

My  well-beloved  Signiors,  now  the  sun 
Of  my  deliv’rance  from  your  hands  must  come ! 
Old  as  I  am,  it  shall  not  fail  :  be  bold  : 

Here  is  folk  whose  force  is  not  grown  old  ! 

[Enter  Creon,  attended  by  a  few  men . 
Sirs,  and  most  noble  denizens  of  the  land, 

Some  fear  of  my  advance,  I  understand, 

Takes  instant  hold  upon  your  eyes.  Forbear 
Your  trembling,  and  the  untoward  greeting  spare. 
I  come  not  hither  as  on  action  bent, 

For  I  am  old,  and  this  your  government 
For  power  I  know  may  match  the  best  in  Greece  ; 
Thus  old,  my  mission  is  by  ways  of  peace 
To  bring  this  man  back  to  Cadmean  ground, 
On  no  one  man’s  commission,  rather  bound 
On  public  errand,  as  by  birth  a  chief 
Mourner  in  all  the  nation  at  his  grief. 

And  now  consent,  unhappy  QEdipus, 

Come  home  :  the  voice  of  Thebes  unanimous 
Recalls  you  duly  :  I,  not  least,  recall — 

For  (were  I  not  the  vilest  wretch  of  all) 

I  suffer  at  your  sorrowful  old  age, 

To  see  this  doleful  foreign  pilgrimage, — 

A  hungry  waif  for  ever,  penniless, 

With  one  to  lead  him  :  little  did  I  guess 
To  such  abjection  she  would  fall  away 
As  fall’n,  poor  soul,  I  find  her — day  by  day 
To  you  and  your  condition  ministrant 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  93 

With  beggar’s  cheer  :  of  age,  uncognizant 
Of  marriage — left  for  who  may  pass  and  please 
To  ravish.  Bad  enough  reproaches,  these, 
Wherewith  I  have  reproached  myself  and  you 
And  all  our  house  ?  Broad  day  leaves  all  to  view  : 
CEdipus,  by  our  fathers’  Gods,  comply  ! 

Keep  secret,  and  consent  to  occupy 
Your  house  and  home,  and  bid  a  kind  good-bye 
To  Athens — she  deserves  it.  Home  must  hold 
First  place  in  worship  :  ’twas  your  nurse  of  old. 
(Ed.  O  wholly  unabashed  !  O  glib  to  gain 
From  any  plea  of  right  some  sly  chicane  ! 

Why  do  you  probe  me  thus,  and  try  once  more 
To  take  me  in  the  toils  I’d  most  deplore  ? 

First,  when  I  was  distempered  with  my  own 
Afflictions,  and  I  yearned  to  be  alone, 

Outlawed  ;  the  grace  I  could  not  then  obtain. 

I  had  my  bellyful  of  rage — was  fain 
To  live  at  home  ;  oh  no  !  ’twas  next  your  cue 
To  thrust  me  out — disown  me  :  much  did  you 
Care  then  for  this  your  plea  of  kith  and  kin  ! 
Once  more  you  find  me  here,  adopted  in 
The  loving  league  of  all  this  realm  and  race 
And  now  you  try  to  tear  me  from  this  place 
With  cruel  soft-speaking.  Love  me  when  I 
will  not — 

What  joy  is  that  ?  As  tho’  one  should  fulfil  not 
Your  suppliant’s  prayer,  nor  do  you  any  good  : 
And  when  you’re  full  of  all  the  things  you  would, 
With  graces  grown  ungracious  then  endow. 
Would  you  not  find  the  favour  empty  now  ? 

Yet  ’tis  the  like  of  that  you  proffer  to  me, 
Blessings  in  word  that  shall  in  act  undo  me. 


94 


SOPHOCLES 


They  too  shall  hear  it — so  I’ll  prove  you  wretch. 
You’re  come  to  fetch  me,  but  not  home  to  fetch, 
Only  to  plant  me  few  fields  off,  and  clear 
Your  state  scot-free  of  any  crosses  here. 

That  cannot  be,  sir  :  this  you  have  in  store — 
My  vengeful  Genius  lodged  there  evermore  : 

And  all  the  inheritance  my  sons  shall  win 
In  lands  of  mine  is  just  to  die  therein. 

Which,  you  or  I,  best  knows  this  Theban  matter  ? 
Oh,  that  I  do  :  my  teachers  do  not  flatter — 
Phoebus,  and  Zeus  himself,  that’s  Phoebus’  sire. 
Your  lip’s  edge,  file  it  to  your  heart’s  desire, 
Comes  with  a  changeling  temper  :  all  your  talk 
Shall  little  serve  to  bless  and  much  to  baulk. 
Nay,  but  I  need  not  think  to  move  you — out ! 
And  let  me  here  abide — ill  off,  no  doubt ; 

But  joy  has  little  to  repine  about. 

Cre.  Do  you  suppose  that  it  is  I  come  worse, 

Or  you  yourself,  sir,  out  of  this  discourse  ? 

(Ed.  I  am  well  pleased  enough  :  you  lose  your  labours 
In  neither  moving  me,  nor  these  my  neighbours. 
Cre.  Poor  man,  you’ll  prove  not  even  Time  can  give 
You  wits  !  the  scandal  of  grey  hairs  you  live  ! 
(Ed.  You’re  sharp  of  tongue.  I  know  no  man  so  pat 
On  all  occasions,  but’s  a  knave  at  that. 

Cre.  Speak  much  from  speak  to  the  point  is  far  apart. 
(Ed.  The  brief  but  pointed,  pray  is  that  your  art  ? 
Cre.  Not  to  the  like  of  your  intelligence. 

(Ed.  Cease  (I  will  use  their  name  to  bid  you  hence) 
Blockading  my  predestined  residence. 

Cre.  They  are  my  witnesses,  not  you  :  I’ll  make  you 
Learn  civil  answers,  if  I  once  can  take  you. 

(Ed.  Who  takes  me  if  my  champions  here  oppose  ? 


GEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  95 

Cre .  Oh,  we  have  other  means  to  vex  than  those  ! 
CEd.  Where  is  the  deed  that  spoken  threat  to  match  ? 
Cre .  One  child  of  yours  I  did  but  now  despatch 
Arrested  ;  soon  I’ll  seize  the  other  one. 

[OEdipus  utters  a  groan. 
You  soon  shall  have  more  to  lament  upon. 

CEd.  You  have  my  daughter  ? 

Cre.  This  one  too,  anon  ! 

CEd.  O  friends,  what  will  you  do  ?  Will  you  betray  ? 

Will  you  not  drive  this  miscreant  away  ? 

L.  of  Cho.  Stranger,  begone  at  once !  No  right  have  you 
In  what  you  have  done  or  in  what  you  do. 

Cre.  My  men  !  high  time  for  you  to  make  her  budge 
By  force,  if  she  will  not  consent  to  trudge. 

[ They  lay  hands  on  Antigone. 
Ant.  Oh,  I  am  lost!  Where  can  I  turn  without 
God’s  help  or  man’s  ? 

L.  of  Cho.  Sir,  what  are  you  about  ? 

Cre.  She’s  mine,  I  say  !  I  do  him  no  despite. 

CEd.  Lords  of  the  land  ! 

L.  of  Cho.  Stranger,  you  have  no  right ! 

Cre.  I  have  a  right. 

L.  of  Cho.  What  right  ? 

Cre.  For  my  own  to  fight  ! 

Trio  :  CEdipus,  Creon,  and  Chorus. 

CEd.  O  People,  hear  ! 

Cho.  Desist,  Prince,  desist  ! 

She  shall  be  released  ! 

Or  else  arms  be  test  ! 

Cre.  Avoid  ! 

Cho.  Not  from  you  ! 

Such  are  the  deeds  you  do  ! 


SOPHOCLES 


96 

Cre .  Hurt  me,  and  you’ve  a  quarrel  with  my  land  ! 

(Ed.  Did  I  not  tell  you  how  ’twould  be  ? 

L.  of  Cho.  Unhand 

The  girl  at  once  ! 

Cre.  Play  master  where  you  may  ! 

L.  of  Cho.  Let  go,  I  say  ! 

Cre .  And  I  say,  Go  your  way  ! 

Cho .  Advance,  make  a  stand  ! 

Advance,  men  of  the  land  ! 

This  is  a  People’s  fall ! 

Here  we  be  outraged  all ! 

Advance,  lend  a  hand  ! 

Ant.  I’m  haled  away,  I’m  ruined  !  Sirs,  good  sirs  ! 

(Ed.  My  child,  where  are  you  ? 

Ant.  Dragged  by  ravishers  ! 

(Ed.  Reach  me  your  hands,  my  child  ! 

Ant .  I  can’t  get  free  ! 

Cre .  (to  his  men).  Why  can’t  you  take  her  off? 

[Antigone  is  carried  off. 

(Ed.  Ay  me,  ay  me  ! 

Cre.  Ha,  ha  !  on  those  two  staves  no  more  you’ll  rest 
In  your  wayfaring.  Since  you  choose  to  best 
Your  country  and  your  kindred  (whose  decree 
I  have  for  warrant,  sovereign  tho’  I  be) 

Best  them  !  In  time,  I  know  it,  you  will  learn 
That  you  have  done  yourself  a  sorry  turn 
To-day,  and  when  you  flouted  them  before 
To  please  the  temper  that’s  your  standing  sore. 

[Leader  of  Chorus  arrests  Creon. 

L.  of  Cho.  Hold  hard,  sir  ! 

Cre .  Keep  your  hands  from  me,  my  Lord  ! 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  97 

L.  of  Cho.  I’ll  never  let  you  go  till  they’re  restored. 
Cre.  With  heavier  ransom  yet  you  shall  atone  : 

I’ll  take  possession  not  of  them  alone. 

L.  of  Cho.  What’s  now  your  move  ? 

Cre.  To  take  him  and  be  gone. 

L.  of  Cho.  Outrageous  word  ! 

Cre.  It  shall  be  fact  anon. 

L.  of  Cho.  Unless  he  shall  prevent,  who  rules  the  land. 
CEd.  On  me,  O  foul  tongue,  will  you  lay  your  hand  ? 
Cre.  Silence  !  I  bid  you. 

CEd.  May  these  spirits  dread 

Not  leave  me  speechless  ere  this  curse  be  said  ! 
Ruffian,  tear  from  me  this  defenceless  eye(56) 
After  my  former  eyes  were  lost,  and  fly  ? 

Now  may  the  Sun,  the  God  all-seeing,  give 
Such  life  to  you  and  all  your  house  to  live 
Hereafter,  as  was  my  life,  when  you’re  old  ! 

Cre.  You  people  of  the  place,  do  you  behold  ? 

CEd.  Ay,  they  behold  us  both,  and  they  can  see 
I  have  but  words  to  avenge  your  torts  to  me. 
Cre.  No  !  I’ll  not  check  my  heat — although  alone, 

I’ll  hale  him,  slow  with  time  although  I’m  grown. 


Trio  :  CEdipus,  Creon,  and  Chorus. 

CEd.  O  mercy  me  ! 

Cho.  O  proud,  haughty  heart — 

Who  dared  plan  the  part, 

And  thought  safe  to  achieve  ! 

Cre.  I  do  ! 

Cho.  We’re  no  more 

A  people,  I’ll  believe  ! 


98  SOPHOCLES 

Cre.  Little  has  vanquished  great  when  Right  so  willed. 
Ed.  Hear  you  what  boasts  ! 

Cho.  They  shall  not  be  fulfilled. 

(Ed.  I  know  it. 

Cre.  Zeus,  no  doubt,  not  you,  can  know  ! 

Cho .  O  outrage  ! 

Cre .  Outrage — you  must  take  it  tho’  ! 


Cho .  Oho  !  People  all  ! 

Oho  !  Chiefs  !  oho  ! 

To  the  defence  I  call : 

To  the  defence  ! — too  slow  ! 
Away  safe  are  they  ! 


Enter  Theseus,  in  haste . 

The.  What's  this  outcry  ?  What's  the  matter  ?  What 
can  be  this  great  alarm 

Made  me  by  the  Sea-god’s  altar  stay  my  sacrificing 
arm, 

By  the  altar  of  the  patron  of  Colonos  ?  Speak 
the  case, 

Why  I  hied  me  quicker  here  than  suits  the 
pleasure  of  my  pace  ? 

Ed.  Dear  friend,  for  your  accost  I  recognise, 

This  man  does  foully  o’er  me  tyrannise. 

The.  What  acts  of  force  ?  And  who  was  he  did  wreak  ? 

Ed.  This  Creon  (you  behold  him)  makes  away 

With  my  two  children,  robs  my  only  stay. 

The.  What’s  that  ? 

Ed.  The  plain  truth  of  my  wrongs  I  speak. 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  99 

The,  Then  let  some  lackey  run  and  not  be  long 
To  yonder  altar,  and  make  all  the  throng, 
Horsemen  alike  and  horseless,  quit  the  rite, 

And  post,  off  reins,  where  thoroughfares  unite, 
Their  avenues  debouching, — there  were  best — 
And  let  the  maids  not  pass  !  Else  to  my  guest 
I’m  made  a  laughing-stock,  forced,  foiled  at  whim! 
Quick,  to  my  hest !  Despatch  !  And  as  for  him — 
Did  but  my  passion  equal  his  desert 
I  had  not  let  him  'scape  my  hands  unhurt  : 

Now  to  such  covenant  shall  he  be  plied, 

As  he  came  here  observing — none  beside  : 

(to  Creon).  You  shall  not  leave  this  land  of 
mine  before 

You  fetch  these  maids  and  to  my  sight  restore  ; 
For  little  worthy  is  this  act  you  planned 
Of  me,  and  of  your  race,  and  of  your  land. 

Into  a  commonwealth  where  men  profess 
Justice,  a  government  of  lawfulness, 

You  come,  intruding,  cut  our  laws  adrift, 

At  your  good  pleasure  levy,  loot,  and  lift ; 

As  slavish  or  dispeopled  rank  my  state, 

My  person  at  a  cipher’s  purchase  rate. 

And  surely  'tis  not  Thebes  that  schooled  you 
rogue  : 

To  breed  lawbreakers  is  no  Theban  vogue, 

And  she  would  not  commend  you  if  she  knew 
This  robbery  on  the  Gods  and  me — that  you 
Harried  the  suppliant  worship  of  the  weak. 
Footing  on  land  of  yours  were  I  to  seek, 

Not  (tho’  I  boasted  ne'er  so  just  a  cause) 
Without  the  magistrate  who  gives  your  laws, 
Would  I  have  haled  and  harried  ;  I'd  have  known 


100 


SOPHOCLES 


How  men  behave  in  countries  not  their  own. 
You  stain  an  undeserving  state  with  crime, — 
You  foul  your  own  nest  :  plenitude  of  time 
Leaves  you  an  old  man  and  an  empty  head. 

I  say  it  now  as  I  before  have  said  ; 

Let  some  one  fetch  these  maids  without  delay, 
Unless  you  like,  perforce,  unasked,  to  stay 
Here  in  the  country  domiciled  ;  and,  mind, 

The  tongue  that  speaks  it  has  a  will  behind. 
L.ofCho.  So,  stranger,  do  you  see  your  case  ?  By  birth 
Gentle,  you  let  your  acts  belie  your  worth. 

Cre .  Not  that  I  count  your  people  (as  you  profess), 

O  Son  of  Aegeus,  silly  or  spiritless, 

This  deed  I've  executed,  but  because 
No  ground  between  us  of  dispute  there  was, 
That  they  in  my  despite  should  keep  my  kin. 
Parenticide  (I  knew  it),  man  of  sin, 

They’d  not  receive, —  the  man  to  whom  a  match 
Of  filthy  issue  had  been  shown  to  attach. 

Such  seat  of  safe  decree, (57)  I  knew  they  had 
On  Ares’  Mount  implanted,  which  forbad 
Such  vagabonds  their  country’s  lot  to  share  : 
Whereby  assured,  my  game  I  went  to  snare, — 
And  had  not  done  so,  if  he  had  not  first 
Me  and  my  house  with  bitter  curses  curst. 

Then  I  presumed  to  render  tit  for  tat. 

Ill-temper — ah,  there’s  no  old  age  for  that 
But  death  !  Upon  the  dead  no  pains  can  seize. 

So  you  shall  do  according  as  you  please, 

For  destitution,  ’spite  my  righteous  pleas, 
Renders  me  puny  ;  have  your  way,  and  yet 
Tho’  old,  I’ll  try  to  give  as  I  shall  get ! 

(Ed.  O  spirit  inhuman,  who  insult  so  much, 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS 


IOI 


Am  I  or  you  the  butt  you  think  to  touch  ? 

My  murder  and  my  marriage — glibly  slips 
My  story  of  misadventure  on  your  lips  : 

The  involuntary  burden  of  my  fate, 

God-sent,  in  wrath,  I  doubt,  of  ancient  date. 
For,  in  myself,  reproach  you  can  descry 
None  of  transgression,  fit  to  justify 
My  so  transgressing  'gainst  myself  and  mine.(58) 
For  teach  me  :  if  oracular  doom  divine 
Came  to  my  father  by  his  sons  to  die, 

How  can  you  make  reproach  with  me  to  lie, 
When  natal  germs  of  father  I  had  not 
Nor  mother  yet,  but  still  was  unbegot  ? 

If,  come,  disastrous  as  I  came,  to  light, 

I  killed  my  sire,  encountering  him  in  fight, 

The  man  mistaken  and  the  thing  unmeant ; 

Can  I  be  blamed  for  acts  without  the  intent  ? 
My  mother's  marriage  too,  you  have  no  shame, 
Your  sister  though  she  was,  to  make  me  name, 
A  marriage — nay,  'twas  you  that  did  advance 
(I’ll  not  be  burked)  to  this  foul  utterance  : — 

She  bore,  she  bore  me — horror  ! — guiltless  she 
As  I  was  guiltless,  and  she  mothered  me, 

Bore  children  to  me  of  her  own  disgrace. 

But  here’s  one  thing  I  know  :  you  chose  to  trace 
My  shame  and  hers  :  I  never  chose  to  wed 
Her,  never  chose  to  say  what  I  have  said. 

And  yet — for  whether  in  my  match  with  her, 
Or  in  the  parricide,  you  still  prefer 
With  bitter  taunts  against  me,  not  so  black 
I’m  shown — I  put  the  question,  answer  back  : 

If  one  stood  here  beside  you,  while  I  speak, 

And  tried  to  kill ;  would  you,  the  righteous,  seek 


102 


SOPHOCLES 


A  father  in  that  felon,  or  chastise 
Outright  ?  Chastise  the  offender,  I  surmise, 

If  you  love  life,  and  not  be  circumspect 
Of  right  and  wrong.  Just  so  my  life  was  wrecked, 
The  Gods  my  pilots.  Which,  if  he  lived  to-day, 
My  father’s  self  I  think  could  not  gainsay. 

And  you  (for  you  are  not  righteous,  but  you  deem 
All’s  fine,  be  it  fair  or  foul,  that  serves  a  theme) 
For  such  reproaches  take  such  auditory  ! 

And  fine  for  you  to  flatter  Theseus’  glory ; 
Athenian  polity,  ’tis  fine  to  flatter  : 

But  in  your  praises  you  forgot  one  matter, 

How  that,  of  all  the  lands  that  take  account 
To  worship  Gods,  this  land  is  paramount 
From  which  by  fraud  you  thought  to  filch  for  prey 
The  old  suppliant,  and  have  rapt  the  maids  away. 

Therefore  I  now  these  Goddesses  beseech 
With  prayers  and  supplicating  cries  of  speech, 
Come  succour  and  defend,  that  you  may  rate 
Aright  the  breed  of  men  that  keep  this  State  ! 

L.  of  Cho.  Sire,  ’tis  a  virtuous  stranger,  and  his  grief 
Was  overwhelming,  proper  for  relief. 

The.  Enough  of  words  :  the  spirited-away 

Post  on  their  road,  while  we  the  baffled  stay. 

Cre.  What  then  for  these  frail  limbs  to  do’s  decreed  ? 

The.  Be  guide  on  yonder  road  :  I  shall  proceed 
As  escort,  that,  if  somewhere  hereabout 
You  hold  the  maids,  yourself  may  point  them  out ; 
But  if  they’re  off  in  keeping,  spare  your  pains, 
We’ve  such  pursuers,  no  man  ever  gains 
The  border  to  give  thanks  for  his  escape. 

But  come,  lead  on  :  we  have  you  by  the  nape, 
Remember  :  chance  has  caught  the  trapper.  Gain 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  103 

Dishonest’s  none  so  easy  to  attain  : 

And  sans  accomplice  ! — not  unarmed  I  know 
Nor  unequipped  you  ever  dared  to  go 
This  present  length  of  outrage  :  something  came 
To  give  you  confidence  to  try  the  game. 

I  must  be  wary  of  it,  and  not  permit 
A  single  man  my  nation  to  outwit. 

D’you  mind  me  ?  or  does  this  my  warning  seem 
Mere  talk,  as  when  you  first  began  your  scheme  ? 
Cre.  Here  all  you  say  to  me  goes  unimpeached : 

I  too  shall  have  my  turn  when  home  is  reached. 
The.  Menace,  but  move!  You,  CEdipus,  abide 
Serenely  where  you  are,  well  satisfied. 

Unless  I  die  first  I  will  never  rest 
Till  of  your  children  you  be  re-possest. 

CEd.  God  bless  you,  Theseus,  for  your  generous  heart, 
And  just  solicitude  to  take  my  part ! 

[. Exeunt  Theseus,  Creon,  and  attendants. 


104 


SOPHOCLES 


Chorus. 


(nr  Turn.) 

There,  there,  would  I  fain  be  found 
Where  foemen  are  wheeling  round, 

Where  clamour  and  clang  resound ! 

Where  Pythian  fane  stands 
Matched  the  main  stands, 

Or  by  the  bright  beach  ^ 

Where  goddesses 
Mystery  rites  teach 
To  votaries — 

To  such  upon  whose  tongue  hath  been 
The  sacramental  key,(60)  the  golden, 

By  the  gentle  Eumolpid  holden  : — 
There  soon  th’  encounter  I  ween 

The  battle-awaking  Prince  will  be 
making, 

And  with  the  Maids  shall  soon  be  seen. 
Loud  shouts  fill  the  region 
From  the  bold-spirited  legion! 


TYPES  OF  GREEK  CAVALRY 


o 


A  Group  from  the  Forman  Vase  in  the  British  Museum,  pth  Century  B.C. 


GEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  105 


(1  st  Counter-turn.) 

Else  haply  to  lawns  addressed 
’Neath  snow-covered  Oia’s  crest 
Now  speeds  their  approach  to  west, 

With  horses  whirling 
The  fleet  cars  hurl  in 
Keen  emulation  ! 

He  shall  be  ours  ! 

Grim  in  my  nation 

The  Wargod’s  powers  ; 

And  grim  be  Theseus’  sons  to  fight  ! 

Their  harness  flashes  like  the  lightning ; 
Onward  dashes,  rein  untight’ning, 
Massed  charge  o’  chivalry’s  might ! 

Pallas  Equestris  they’ve  for  Mistress  ; 
And  they  stand  in  the  Sea-God’s  sight, 

To  the  child  of  Rhea  Phrygian, 

Stay  o’  th’  land,  turns  their  religion  ! 


io6 


SOPHOCLES 


[2nd  Turn.) 

Engaged  now  ?  Nay  soon  to  be  ? 

My  heart’s  guess  pleads  with  me 
He  soon  shall  find,  soon  free 
The  sorely  tried  ones, 

Sorrow  loaded, 

Sorely  rueing 

The  hands  of  kin. 

To-day  !  to-day  !  Zeus  will  be  doing  ! 
Doughty  conflict 

My  heart  hath  boded  ! 

O  that  I  might 
Ev’n  so  swiftsure 
As  the  dove’s  wing, 

Hurricane-paced  fro’  the  skies  light 
Upon  the  fray,  above,  swing 

Aloft,  air-poised  aloft,  my  eye-sight  1 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  107 


( 2nd  Counter-turn .) 

Oho  !  Zeus,  Almighty  Lord  ! 

All-seeing  One,  afford 
These  charged  with  our  land’s  ward, 
Victorious  strength  both 

To  find  and  follow, 

And  be  clean-free 

O’  th’  ambuscade  ! 

And  thou,  his  child  !  Pallas  Athene  ! 

And  the  Chase-God, 

Hunter  Apollo  ! 

And  the  Twin-born  (61> 

Whom  the  roe-deer 
Never  distance, 

(Swift  tho’  the  dappleskin  roes  are) 
Grant  ye  paired  assistance  ! 

The  land  calls  !  Succour  where  my 
foes  are  ! 


108  SOPHOCLES 

Chorus  Leader.  O  wandering  visitor,  you  shall  not  blame 
Your  watchman — (here  they  come  ! — my  eyes 
proclaim 

Your  daughters’  rescue  !) — true  diviner  rather  ! 

[ Enter  Antigone,  Ismene,  Theseus,  and 
attendants . 

(Ed.  Where,  where  ?  What’s  that  ?  How  say  you  ? 
Ant .  O  father,  father  ! 

O  that  a  God  might  give  you  eyes  to  view 
That  best  of  men  who  gives  us  back  to  you  ! 
Ed.  O  children,  are  you  with  me  ? 

Ant .  Ay  !  Theseus’  arm 

And  his  kind  henchmen  rescued  us  from  harm. 
Ed.  Come  hither,  child  ;  grant  to  your  father’s  grasp 
The  form  I  never  hoped  again  to  clasp  ! 

Ant.  Fond  eagerness  accords  it,  nothing  loth. 

Ed.  But  where,  where  are  you  ? 

Ant .  Here  beside  you,  both. 

Ed.  O  darling  branches  ! 

Ant.  How  a  father  craves  ! 

Ed.  Staves  of  a  man  ! 

Ant.  Poor  man,  and  O  poor  staves  ! 

Ed.  I  have  my  darlings !  If  with  these  beside  me 
I  died,  a  worse  affliction  might  betide  me. 
Support  me,  side  by  side,  child,  left  and  right, 

Fit  faster  to  your  father,  and  assuage 
My  solitary,  doleful  pilgrimage  ; 

And  tell  me  briefly  of  your  escapades  : 

Short  speaking  is  enough  for  little  maids. 

Ant.  Hear  our  deliverer,  father  :  this  is  he  : 

That  is  the  shortest  way  for  you  and  me. 

Ed.  My  host,  be  not  amazed  if  I  importune 

With  fond  excess, at  thisunguessed  good  fortune — 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  109 

My  children’s  rescue  :  for  this  sweet  surprise 
From  none  but  you,  I  know  it,  can  arise. 

You’re  their  deliverer,  none  in  the  world  but 
you  !  ' 

May  Gods  reward  you,  even  as  I  would  do, 

You  and  this  land  !  Because  in  all  mankind 

Religion  here  with  you  alone  I  find 

And  mercy  and  the  lips  that  speak  no  lie  : 

This  I  have  proved — my  thanks  shall  testify  : 
And  what  I  have,  thro’  you,  thro’  you  have  I  ! 
O  Prince,  stretch  out  your  hand  to  me  (if  this 
May  be)  to  touch  your  person,  and  to  kiss. 

What  do  I  say,  tho’  ?  How  shall  I  presume 
Being  so  vile,  to  touch  one — I  in  whom 
Lodges  all  spot  of  evil  ?  Not  for  me  ! 

I’ll  not  permit  you  either.  They  must  be 
Trained  who  partake  in  such  unhappiness. 

Stir  not,  but  take  my  greeting,  and  no  less 
Henceforth  be  wise  and  kind  my  life  to  bless. 
The .  Neither  if  you  have  somewhat  amply  phrased 
Your  pleasure  in  the  girls,  am  I  amazed 
Nor  if  to  me  their  story  you  preferred  : 

’Tis  my  endeavour  not  so  much  by  word 
As  in  my  deeds  my  life  to  glorify ,(62> 

I  prove  it  too,  sir,  I  did  not  belie 

My  oath  to  you  in  aught.  For  here  I  bring 

The  maids,  alive,  unharmed  of  threatening. 

But  how  the  cause  was  won,  why  idly  boast  ? 
Unaided,  you’re  with  those  can  tell  you  most. 

But  there’s  a  business  which  not  long  ago 
Met  me  :  your  mind  upon  it  let  me  know. — 
’Tis  slight  to  speak  of,  yet  ’tis  worth  surprise  : 
There  is  no  matter  man  can  well  despise. 


1 10 


SOPHOCLES 


Ed.  ( alarmed  and  anxious).  What  is  it,  son  of  Aegeus  ? 
Give  me  clues, 

I — of  myself — know  nothing  of  your  news. 

The.  They  tell  us  there  is  one,  not  of  your  nation, 
But  of  your  blood,  who  sits  in  supplication, 
Before  Poseidon’s  altar-base — the  same 
Where  I  was  sacrificing,  when  I  came. 

Ed.  What  countryman  ?  What  might  his  posture 
want  ? 

The.  I  know  but  this  :  he  asks  a  little  word 
Of  light  significance  with  you,  I  heard. 

Ed.  Eh  ?  but  this  session  takes  some  thinking  on’t. 
The.  They  say  he  craves  for  speech  of  you,  and  then 
Safe-conduct  when  he  goes  his  ways  again. 

Ed.  Who  comes  like  this  the  suppliant’s  seat  to  haunt  ? 
The.  Think,  if  you  have  not  any  of  your  race 

At  Argos  who  should  come  to  ask  this  grace. 
Ed.  Sweet  friend,  hold  where  you  are  ! 

The.  What  ails  you,  pray  ? 

Ed.  Require  me  not — 

The.  What  requisition,  say  ? 

Ed.  I’ve  heard  :  I  recognise  this  suppliant  now. 

The.  Who  can  it  be  that  I  should  disallow  ? 

Ed.  Prince,  ’tis  my  son,  abhorred  :  to  no  man  living 
Could  I  so  ill  bear  any  audience  giving. 

The.  Why,  you  may  hear  and  let  him  not  convert  you 
Against  your  choice :  how  can  this  audience 
hurt  you  ? 

Ed.  No  voice  more  hateful  than  my  son’s  could  be  : 

Put  me  to  no  compulsion  to  agree. 

The .  His  posture,  though  :  there’s  much  constraint  in 
this. 

Duty  to  God  bethink  you  lest  you  miss. 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  hi 


Ant.  Father,  although  a  girl  to  advise  am  I, 

Listen.  Allow  the  King  to  satisfy 
His  judgment  and  his  God-revering  sense  ; 

To  please  us,  give  our  brother  audience. 

He  cannot  pluck  you  from  resolve  perforce, 

(Be  comforted  !)  by  untoward  discourse. 

Words  —  where’s  the  harm  to  hear  them  r 
Mal-devised 

Actions,  they  say,  by  words  are  advertised. 

You  did  beget  him,  so  tho’  he  should  do 
Most  foully  and  sacrilegiously  by  you, 

You,  father,  may  not  requite  ingratitude. 

Do,  let  him  !  Others  have  a  rascal  brood 
And  a  sharp  temper,  yet  the  admonition 
Of  tender  spells  transmutes  their  whole  condition. 
Only  look  back,  dismiss  to-day,  recall 
Father  and  mother,  the  horror  of  it  all : 
Considering  that,  you’ll  surely  recognise 
What  mischief  at  the  goal  of  anger  lies. 

Matter  enough  you  have  to  meditate, 

In  the  bereavement  of  your  rayless  eyes. 

O  yield  !  A  just  suit  with  importunate 
Suitors  does  ill  agree,  and  usage  kind 
With  one  who  has  for  kind  returns  no  mind. 
CEd.  It  is  a  heavy  pleasure,  child,  to  strike 

My  colours  to  your  pleading.  As  you  like  ! 
Only,  sir,  if  this  visit  is  to  be, 

Let  never  man  possess  himself  of  me. 

The.  Once  such  requests,  not  twice,  I  care  to  hear  ! 
Sir,  tho’  I  do  not  boast,  you  need  not  fear  : 

So  long  as  God  keeps  me  I  keep  you  here. 


1 12 


SOPHOCLES 


Chorus 

[Turn.) 

Sober  bounds  if  a  man  forsaking 
Craveth  after  an  ampler  lot ; 

Foolishness  to  his  portion  taking, 

Clear  at  the  bar  of  my  heart’s  his  sin. 
Hoarded  up  in  the  long  day’s  treasure 
There  is  plenty  to  pain  akin  ; 

Seekers  after  the  things  of  pleasure 
Seeking  busily,  find  them  not : 

When  once  beyond  the  due  they  fall. 

Yet  there  is  delivery  coming — 

When  shall  arise — not  jubilant  with  a  dance 
melody  thrumming — 

Portion  of  the  Invisible,  manifested 
In  Death,  the  evenly-summing. 


( Counter-turn .) 

Not  to  be  were  a  prize  of  prizes  :  ^ 

But  if  one  to  the  light  be  come, 

Sink  back  speedily  whence  he  rises — 

This  is  the  next  most  excellent  way. 

Youth  is  charged  with  flimsy  fancies ; 

Yet,  when  a  man  puts  youth  away, 

What  is  wanting  of  all  mischances  ? 

What’s  to  seek  of  the  painful  sum  ? 

Sedition,  murders,  fightings,  strife  ; 

Envy  too.  Upon  it  for  coping 
Execrable  eld  falls,  impotent,  ever  uncomforted, 
moping  : 

Sorrow  of  sorrow  has  in  him  a  dwelling  ; 
And  with  him  there’s  no  hoping. 


OEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  i 


[Aftersong.) 

In  this  sore  case  not  I  alone  but  he  lies, 

As  a  Northern  beach  beside  the  sea  lies 
Whipped  by  the  wave,  stormily  billow-battered 
E’en  so  he  has  been  shattered  : 

Such  grim  surges  of  ill  come, 

Come  battering  over  his  head  and  still  come. 

Some  from  the  side  where  the  sun  sinks  low, 
Some  from  the  Orient  light, 

Some  by  the  middle  noonday  glow, 

From  Stormhills  some,  of  the  Arctic  night. 


SOPHOCLES 


114 

Ant .  Look  !  This,  I  take  it,  is  our  foreigner, 

Alone  of  men,  father,  a  traveller, 

Distilling  ceaseless  teardrops  from  his  eyes. 

[ Enter  Polyneices. 

(Ed.  Who's  this  ? 

Ant.  The  same  we  did  at  first  surmise  ; 

’Tis  Polyneices  stands  before  you,  sir. 

Pol.  Ay  me  !  What  shall  I  do  ?  My  own  woes  rather 
Shall  I  lament,  or  of  my  poor  old  father 
This  woeful  sight  ?  On  alien  ground,  outcast, 
With  you  two  I  discover  him  at  last ; 

And  with  such  clothes — disgustful  dirt’s  abode, 
Ancient  upon  the  ancient,  to  corrode 
His  sides — a  socket-staring  brow,  with  hair 
Unkempt  upon  it,  fluttering  in  the  air  ; 

And  brother  doubtless  of  his  garb,  he  wears 
The  cheer  whereon  his  wretched  belly  fares.(64) 
How  lost  am  I,  who  find  it  out  so  late ! 

Writ  down  a  wretch  by  your  neglected  state 
Of  life  :  not  elsewhere  need  you  ask  my  fate. 
Well,  well  :  there  sits  with  Zeus  co-arbitress 
Mercy,  o’er  every  act :  may  she  no  less 
Father,  with  you  be  found  !  My  faults  allow 
Mending,  and  no  more  aggravation  now. 

Why  silent  ? 

O  father,  speak  a  word  !  Turn  not  away  ! 

Not  answer  even  ?  Not  even  give  anger  play  ? 
Dismiss  me  disappointed,  and  be  dumb  ? 

O  you  his  seed,  who  are  my  sisters,  come, 

Try,  you  at  least,  this  father’s  tongue  to  rouse 
That  no  approach  and  no  address  allows ; 

That  I  may  not  unanswered  be  dismissed, 

And  disappointed,  I,  God’s  votarist. 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  115 

Ant.  Unhappy  man,  your  need  and  suit  avow, 

Plenty  of  words,  the  adage  says,  ere  now 
Melting — indignant — making  to  rejoice — 

Have  caused  the  voiceless  one  to  find  his  voice. 

Pol.  Thanks  for  that  hint :  I  will  my  tale  unfold. 
Firstly  because  that  God  himself  I  hold 
My  champion,  whence  this  kingdom's  arbiter 
Upraised  me  to  approach,  and  did  confer 
Charter  to  speak  and  hear  and  safe  retire  ; 
Which  to  make  good,  sirs,  I  shall  now  require 
Of  you,  of  these  my  sisters,  and  my  sire. — 

Now  why  I  came  I'd  have  you  understand. 

I  am  an  exile  from  my  fathers'  land, 

Because,  as  elder  born,  I  thought  it  meet 
That  I  should  throne  it  in  your  sovereign  seat. 
Wherefore,  by  birth  the  junior,  Eteocles 
Pushed  me  abroad,  by  no  prevailing  pleas — 

No  proof  of  arm  or  action  did  he  face, 

But  gained  the  people.  Which  event  I  trace 
As  in  the  main  to  your  Erinys  due  :  ^ 

To  that  effect  I  hear  from  prophets  too. 

When  I  to  Argos  came,  the  Dorian  hold, 
Spousing  Adrastus'  daughter,  I  enrolled 
In  Apis'  land  (66)  confederates,  all  who  are 
Of  prime  report  and  estimate  in  war, 

That  at  the  wall  of  Thebes  I  might  present 
With  them  my  seven-bladed  armament, 

And  die  in  the  cause  or  cast  the  offenders  out. 
Well !  you  will  ask,  what  am  I  here  about  ? 
Father  !  a  suppliant  prayer  to  you  I  make 
Both  for  myself  and  my  confederates’  sake, 

Who  now  with  squadrons  seven  and  sevenfold 
Lances  the  Theban  plain  in  leaguer  hold  : 


SOPHOCLES 


1 16 

Such  Amphiareos,  a  hotspur  fighter,  first 
Of  captains,  prime  of  seers  in  augury  versed  ; 
Tydeus  the  second,  sprung  from  (Emeus’  loins, 
/Etolian  :  third,  Argive  Eteoclos  joins  ; 

Fourth,  Talaos  sent  a  son  to  ’list  i'  the  host, 
Hippomedon  ;  fifth,  Capaneus,  whose  boast 
Would  wreck  Thebes  town  in  fire  and  overthrow; 
Arcadian  Parthenopaeos  rose  to  show, 

The  sixth,  his  mother  Atalanta’s  worth, 

Namesake  of  the  stubborn  maid  who  gave  him  birth. 
And  I  your  son,  tho’  not  your  son,  but  sown 
Of  Misadventure,  yet  proclaimed  your  own, 

Lead  againstThebes  the  dauntless  Argive  troop  — (67) 
To  you,  sir,  all  in  supplication  stoop  ! 

In  the  name  of  these  damsels  and  your  name, 

Yield  your  grave  anger  to  the  suitors’  claim, 

Eager  for  vengeance  on  my  brother’s  head 
Who  thrust  me  forth  and  disinherited. 

For  the  oracle,  if  there  be  trust  therein, 
Pronounced  the  side  which  you  adopt  must  win. 
Now  by  the  W  ells  and  Gods  which  saw  your  birth, 

I  pray  you,  yield,  consent  !  We  cadge  in  dearth. 
We’re  aliens  here,  and  you  are  alien  too, 

We  dwell  on  flattery’s  sufferance,  I  and  you, 

Our  fatal  portion  is  the  same  distress ; 

The  prince  installed  at  home  (O  bitterness!) 
Swaggers  and  mocks  at  me  and  you  no  less. 

But  if  you  lend  a  hand  to  my  resolve, 

His  force  full  soon,  full  lightly  I’ll  dissolve  ; 

So  in  your  house  restored  you’ll  be  again, 

And  I  restored,  when  he’s  pitched  out  amain  : 

Such  vaunt  is  mine  if  you  will  help  contrive  ; 

Else  I’ve  not  e’en  strength  to  return  alive. 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  117 

L .  of  Cho.  For  the  King's  sake  who  put  him  on  his  way, 
Let  him  go  back,  but  say  you  first  your  say. 

(Ed.  Sirs,  as  for  answer,  were  it  not  the  case 

That  Theseus  introduced  him  to  this  place, 

Your  sovereign  lord,  and  claimed  for  him  the 
chance, 

He  never,  I  vow,  had  heard  my  utterance. 
Favoured  and  answered  now  he  shall  retire 
With  that  which  ill  shall  cheer  his  heart’s  desire. 

[ Turning  suddenly  on  Polyneices. 
Since,  villain,  when  the  sceptre  and  sovereignties 
Were  yours,  which  now  your  brother  in  Thebes 
calls  his, 

You  to  dislodge  your  father  did  not  spare, 

Left  me  disfranchised  and  these  weeds  to  wear. 
And  now  you  weep  at  sight  of  them,  because 
You’re  placed  in  just  such  trouble  as  I  was  ! 

No  crying  helps  ;  I  have  to  bear  them,  all 
My  days,  while  you,  my  murderer,  I  recall : 

’Tis  you,  who  made  me  nursling  of  distress, 

You  pushed  me  out,  ’tis  you  I  have  to  bless 
That  I’m  a  waif  who  beg  my  daily  bread. 

Had  I  these  nurses  for  myself  not  bred, 

These  girls,  I’d  been  no  more,  for  all  your  share  : 
But  they  preserve  me,  they’re  my  nurses,  they’re 
Men  and  no  women,  as  for  service  rendering ; 
You’re  of  some  other,  none  of  my  engendering. 
So  not  yet  turns  the  Spirit  on  you  such  glance^ 
As  shortly,  if  so  be  these  troops  advance 
Against  Thebes  state.  That  town  to  overthrow 
You  may  not  hope  ;  ere  that  you  must  lie  low, 
You  and  your  brother,  both  befouled  in  gore. 
Such  curses  I  let  loose  on  you  before, 


n8 


SOPHOCLES 


And  now  I  call  them  to  my  aid  again, 

That  to  revere  your  parents  you  may  deign, 

Not  flout  them  quite,  because  the  father’s  blind, 
The  sons  like  you  :  these  girls  were  not  unkind. 
So  your  downsittings  (69)  and  your  kingly  crown 
They (7°)  overrule,  if  Right,  of  old  renown, 

Still  share  the  bench  of  Zeus  by  the  old  decree. 
Out  !  loathed  and  spurned  and  fatherless  to  me  ! 
Villain  of  villains  !  all  your  scrip  shall  be 
These  curses  which  I  call  upon  you  :  never 
By  arms  to  gain  your  native  lands,  nor  ever 
Reach  hollow  Argos,  but  to  fell  and  fall 
Singled  and  singling  him  who  took  your  all. 

Such  is  my  curse :  I  pray  the  Pit  of  Hell, 
Ghastly,  paternal/71)  take  you  there  to  dwell ; 

I  pray  these  Goddesses,  Ares  I  pray 

Who  brought  your  dreadful  duel-feud  in  play. 

Set  on  !  for  now  you’ve  heard,  and  make  it  known 
To  all  the  people  of  Cadmus,  and  your  own 
Trusty  confederates  :  “  Such  of  royal  meed 
For  his  sons’  portions  GSdipus  decreed.” 

Chorus  Leader.  I  give  you  little  joy  of  the  road  you 
came, 

Polyneices  ;  now  make  haste,  retrace  the  same. 
Pol.  Woe  for  my  journey,  and  my  wretchedness, 

Woe  for  my  comrades  !  Thus  then  (O  distress  !) 
Thus  is  the  road  fulfilled  that  we  began 
At  Argos  :  such  an  end  I  never  can 
T ell  to  my  comrades,  nor  avert,  but  dumb 
Go  to  encounter  that  which  needs  must  come. 
O  sisters,  you  his  daughters,  you  who  hear 
A  father  imprecate  this  ban  severe/72) 

Do  not  in  God’s  name,  if  the  curse  come  true, 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  119 


And  you  come  home  to  Thebes,  O  do  not  you 
Hereafter  leave  me  to  dishonour  quite, 

But  give  me  burial  and  the  dead  man’s  rite. 

So  shall  this  praise  which  now  for  tenderness 
In  serving  him,  you  gain, — a  praise  no  less 
Dear,  shall  be  yours  for  service  done  to  me. 

Ant.  Polyneices,  will  you  grant  my  earnest  prayer  ? 
Pol.  Say  what  it  is,  my  sweet  Antigone. 

Ant.  Straight  back  to  Argos  bid  your  host  repair, 

To  wreck  your  country  and  yourself  forbear  ! 
Pol.  Impossible  !  One  hour  of  cowardice — 

And  ne’er  again  I  lead  a  host  like  this. 

Ant.  Why  need  you  rage  anew,  my  lad  ?  What  gain 
Comes  if  you  raze  your  city  to  the  plain  ? 

Pol.  An  exile,  while  my  brother  laughs  to  scorn 
(O  shame  !)  my  precedence  as  elder  born  ! 

Ant.  He  hints  your  mutual  death  :  do  you  observe, 
His  bodings  carry  through  and  never  swerve  ? 
Pol.  His  wishes,  yes  ;  we  must  not  yield  an  inch. 
Ant.  Ay  me,  the  troubles  !  Who  will  be  so  bold 
To  follow,  that  has  heard  the  doom  foretold  ? 
Pol.  We’ll  make  no  poor  report :  wise  captains  should 
Suppress  shortcomings  and  proclaim  the  good. 
Ant.  Then  you’re  resolved,  my  lad?  You  willnot  flinch? 

[  They  throw  their  arms  about  him. 
Pol.  Yes,  stay  me  not.  I  now  must  give  my  mind 
To  this  bad  venture,  all  the  more  unkind 
Thanks  to  my  father,  and  his  fiends  of  ire. 

God  speed  you  if  you  give  me  my  desire  ! 

\H.e  disengages  himself. 

And  now  let  go,  and  fare  you  well.  We  part 
To  meet  no  more  alive. 

Ant. 


O  my  sad  heart ! 


120 


SOPHOCLES 


Pol.  You  shall  not  weep  for  me. 

Ant.  My  brother,  who, 

Seeing  you  blank-Hell-bound,  will  groans  eschew  ? 
Pol.  I’ll  die,  if  need  is. 

Ant.  Do  not  so  !  Comply  ! 

Pol.  ’Twere  wrong  compliance. 

Ant.  Then  how  wretched  am  I, 

For  I  must  lose  you. 

Pol.  This  or  t’other  way, — 

It  lies  with  God.  But  still,  for  you  I  pray, 

May  never  ill  event  a  pair  befall, 

So  well  deserving  in  the  sight  of  all. 

[Exit. 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  121 


Chorus. 

Anew  these  cometh  and  again  anew 
Misery  disastrously  from  the  sightless  guest ! 

Yet  perchance  ’tis  best — 

Doom  falls  true. 

For  out  of  all  the  claims  supernal 

Dare  I  none  pronounce  at  fault : 

Time  watches,  Time’s  watch’s  eternal  : 

One  thing  now  he  will  exalt, 

One  with  a  change  diurnal 
Low  down  he’ll  wrest/73) 

[  Thunder  is  heard. 
Thunder  in  heaven  !  O  Zeus  ! 

(Ed.  O  children  1  Is  here  any  who’ll  provide 
The  incomparable  Theseus  at  my  side  ? 

Ant .  What’s  your  request,  that  makes  you  call  the 
King  ? 

(Ed.  This  winged  thunder  presently  will  lead 

Me  down  to  Hades.  Send  for  him — all  speed  ! 

[  Thunder  is  heard  again. 


I 


122 


SOPHOCLES 


Chorus. 

Look !  hugely  with  a  resounding  peal 
Ineffable,  God’s  artillery,  crash  the  shocks  ! 
Horror  thro’  my  locks 
Thrill  I  feel  ! 

My  courage  cowers  !  Again  the  thunder  1 
Lightning  kindles  heav’n  again  ! 

What  issue  breaks  ?  In  awe  I  wonder. 

Forth  it  bursts  never  in  vain 
From  skies  crack’d  asunder, 

But  doom  unlocks  ! 

O  the  high  heaven  !  O  Zeus  ! 

CEd.  O  children,  the  divinely-spoken  end 

Is  come  on  me,  which  nothing  now  can  fend. 
Ant.  How  do  you  know,  whereby  divine  this  thing  ? 
Ed.  I  know  full  well.  But  call  without  delay 

The  King  of  the  land,  and  put  him  on  his  way. 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  123 


Chorus. 

Ah  !  Yet  again  !  Aha  !  Look  ! 

Ear-piercing  sound 
Imminently  envelopeth  me  ! 

Pity  us,  O  dread  Lord  ! 

Pity  us,  if  so  be 
Over  the  earth  our  mother 
Lours  dark  decree. 

Because  I  looked  on  sins  of  other — 

(O  let  grace  in  thee  be  found  !) 

Is  loss  all  my  gain  ? 

My  thanks  only  pain  ? 

Zeus  !  Upon  thee  I  call  ! 

(Ed.  Is  he  at  hand  ?  My  children,  will  he  find 
Me  living — able  still  to  address  my  mind  ? 

Ant .  What  trust  is  this  the  mind  must  make  to  cling  ? 
(Ed.  Kind  usage  with  effectual  gratitude 

I  would  requite,  and  make  my  promise  good. 


124 


SOPHOCLES 


Chorus. 

Oho  !  Oho  !  Haste,  haste  thee, 

O  haste,  my  son  ! 

Whether  in  the  summit-hollow  here 
Thy  place  now  be  found, 

And  burnt  flesh  of  steer 
Hallow  the  Sea-god's  altar — 

Theseus  !  appear  ! 

The  stranger  claims — he’s  no  defaulter  : 

He  requites  the  kindness  done — 

To  State,  King,  and  friends 
To  make  due  amends. 

Hurry  !  Approach  !  O  Prince  ! 

Enter  Theseus. 

The.  What  fresh  acclaim  resounds,  between  you  shared, 
Clear  voice  of  the  people,  and  of  the  guest 
declared  ? 

Is  it  the  bolt  of  Zeus — from  showering  skies 
The  hailstorm  pelting  ?  T ime  for  strange  surmise 
Enough,  when  God  gives  weather  such  as  this. 
(Ed.  O  King,  you  come  !  I  craved  for  you  to  appear  : 

God  sets  a  blessing  on  your  advent  here. 

The .  What  news,  O  son  of  La'ios  ?  What’s  amiss  ? 
(Ed.  The  dip  of  the  scales  of  life.  I’d  not  belie 
My  bond  to  you  and  yours  before  I  die. 

The.  Upon  what  proof  rest  you  so  confident? 

(Ed.  The  Gods  themselves  are  harbingers  to  apprise  ; 

Of  all  the  appointed  signs,  there’s  none  that  lies. 
The.  What  is  it,  sir,  you  mean  that  tells  the  event  ? 
Ed.  Plenty  of  pauseless  thunder,  lightning  brands 
Wielded  in  plenty  by  the  Almighty  hands. 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  125 

The.  You  move  me.  Divination  plenty  in  you 

I  see,  unfeigned.  Say  what  you’d  have  me  do. 
(Ed.  I  will  impart  a  thing  that  shall  be  held 
In  trust  for  Athens,  unimpaired  of  eld. 

Of  guides  unhandled,  there  myself  will  I 
Be  guide  this  selfsame  hour,  where  I  must  die  : 
This  place,  to  living  men  reveal  it  not 
Nor  whereabouts  nor  secrecies  of  the  spot ; 

So  shall  the  abiding  succour  it  shall  yield 
Match  borrowed  battle  and  many  a  neighbour’s 
shield. 

The  mystic  thing,  untampered-with  by  speech, 
You’ll  hear  when  all  alone  the  place  you  reach  : 
That  may  I  not  to  any  burgher  tell, 

Nor  to  my  children,  tho’  I  love  them  well. 

But  husband  it  for  ever,  and  whene’er 
Life’s  term  you  touch,  instruct  your  first-born 
heir ; 

And  each  to  his  successor  still  reveal : 

So  shall  you  keep  unwrecked  of  the  Sown 
Men’s  <74>  heel 

Your  territories.  The  mass  of  States  are  quick 
Despite  wise  polities,  to  swell  and  kick. 

Full  well,  tho’  late  in  time,  the  Gods  observe, 
Worship  forgot,  when  men  to  madness  swerve.<75) 
O  Son  of  Aegeus,  such  a  case  eschew  : 

Yet  this  is  precept  given  to  one  who  knew. 

But  to  the  place — the  spirit  bids  begone  : 

Let  us  no  longer  dally  but  set  on. 

\_He  sets  out  to  walk ,  the  others  following  him. 
Here,  children,  follow  :  strange  that  I  should  be 
Turned  guide  to  you,  as  once  you  guided  me  ! 
Move  on  and  do  not  touch  me  :  let  me  find 


126 


SOPHOCLES 


Myself  the  holy  burying-place  designed 
By  doom  to  ensconce  this  body  in  the  mould. 
Come  !  this  way  !  come  !  ’tis  here !  I  tread 
controlled 

By  Hermes  the  Escort  and  the  Nether  Queen. 
O  beamless  Daylight,  mine  I  know  thou  hast 
been, 

Of  thee  for  this  last  time  my  limbs  have  sense. 

I  carry  now  my  life’s  fulfilment  hence 
In  death  to  hide  it.  O  my  friend,  so  dear, 
Yourself,  your  land,  and  these  retainers  here, 
Blessings  be  with  you  ;  wealthy  be  your  store  ; 
Think  of  me  dead  and  thrive  for  evermore. 

[Exit,  followed  by  Theseus,  Antigone,  and 
Ismene. 


THANATOS 


1  ortion  of  drum  of  sculptured  column  from  Temple  of  Artemis  at  Ephesus , 
in  the  British  Museum.  <\th  Century  B.C. 


/•  127 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  127 


{Turn.) 


Chorus. 


Mine  if  it  is  to  yield 
Praise  to  the  Unrevealed 
Goddess,  and  mine  to  dare 
Pray  to  the  Prince  of  Darkness — Aidoneus  ! 
Aidoneus  !  a  prayer  ! 

With  a  serene  unlamentable  end 
Quickly  his  way  let  the  stranger  wend 
Down,  down,  t’ward  Dead  Men’s  Weald — to 
Stygian  abodes,  rich  in  ages’  store  ! 

Since  many  and  sore  plagues  he  bore, 
Visited  with  vain  distress, (76) 

’Tis  time  that  Heav’n’s  justice  turn 
again  to  bless. 


( Counter-turn .) 

Powers  of  the  Underworld  ! 

Shape  of  the  Beast  upcurled, 

Stronger  than  might  of  men  ! 

Close  to  the  guest  -  frequented  gate  lieth  he 
a-snarling  from  his  den, 

Sentinel  indomitable  of  death  : 

So  the  tradition  of  ages  saith. 

O  Death,  Earth-born,  Hell-fathered, — blank  be 
the  walks  of  the  Beast,  I  pray 
Until  his  way  free  to-day 

Down  to  Dead  Men’s  Weald  he 
take  ! 

O  Final  Slumber,  I  to  thee  petition 
make  ! 


128 


SOPHOCLES 


Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mes.  Sirs,  citizens,  the  trath  were  quickly  said 
When  I  should  tell  you  CEdipus  is  dead  ; 

But,  for  the  circumstances — no  more  short 
The  words  can  be  than  the  acts  which  they  report. 
Cho.  Poor  soul  !  He’s  dead  then  ? 

Mes .  So  much  may  be  taken 

For  sure — his  daily  being  he’s  forsaken. 

Cho.  How  ?  After  some  divine  and  painless  sort  ? 
Mes.  For  that  your  full  astonishment  prepare. 

When  hence  he  first  ’gan  walk — and  you  were 
there — 

You  know  it  well — no  guide  familiar  led, 

But  of  us  all  he  went  himself  ahead. 

When  at  the  Threshold  Cataract  <77)  arrived 
(Deep  in  the  earth  with  bronze  root-bases  gyved), 
He  stayed  in  one  of  many-severed  alleys 
Beside  the  Bowl,(78)  where  still  are  Theseus’  tallies 
Which  of  his  bond  with  Perithous  keep  stock. 
So  placed,  midway  from  the  Thorician  Rock,(79) 
The  hollow  Pear-tree  and  the  Tomb  of  Stone, 
Sat  down  ;  undid  his  raiment  filth-o’ergrown  ; 
Then  with  a  loud  cry  bade  his  daughters  bring 
Lavers  of  running  water  and  Offering  : 

They  to  Demeter  of  Green  Blades  (80)  addressed 
Their  steps,  the  mount  of  prospect ;  his  behest 
In  little  time  despatched,  and  furnished  him 
With  bath  and  raiment,  all  in  ritual  trim. 

As  soon  as  to  his  liking  all  was  done 
Of  his  commands  unprosecuted  none, 

Zeus  Underground  pealed  thunder :  at  which  sound 
Shuddered  the  maids,  and  falling  down  around 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  129 

Their  father’s  knees  they  wept  and  took  no  rest 
From  groans  longdrawnand  beatings  of  the  breast. 
But  he,  when  on  his  ear  the  sad  strain  broke, (8i) 
Suddenly  folded  hands  on  them  and  spoke  : 

“  Children,  this  day  your  father  is  no  more ; 

All’s  over  with  me  ;  and  for  you  the  sore 
Laborious  burden  that  in  me  you  bore. 

Children,  ’twas  rough,  I  know,  and  yet  one  phrase 
Y our  wearinesses  all  alone  repays  : 

True  love  from  never  any  one  so  true 
You  had,  as  his  that’s  parted  now  from  you 
For  all  the  life  that’s  left  you  to  pursue.” 

So  lapped  in  close  embraces,  each  with  each, 
They  sobbed  and  cried,  until  they  seemed  to  reach 
A  term  of  lamentation.  Not  a  groan 
More.  Silence.  When  a  sudden  Voice  unknown 
Halloo’d  him.  Every  man  in  sudden  dread 
Pricked  up  erect  the  hairs  upon  his  head  : 

God  calls  him  with  a  loud  and  changing  cry  ! 
“Oho,  there  !  CEdipus  !  oho,  there  !  Why 
Wait  we  to  go  ?  Too  long  thou  loiterest.” 
He,  when  he  knew  of  God  he  was  addrest, 
Called  loudly  for  King  Theseus  to  draw  near  : 
And  said  when  heapproached  him :  “Brother  dear, 
Give  to  my  daughters  the  unchanging  troth 
Of  your  right  hand — yours  to  him,  children,  both : 
Vow  of  your  free  will  to  betray  them  never, 

But  act  their  good  friend  in  all  acts  whatever.” 
He  like  a  man  of  honour  gave  his  troth, 

Thereto  unhesitating,  under  oath. 

And  that  no  sooner  finished,  CEdipus 
Touching  with  fingers  blind  his  children,  thus  : 

“  My  daughters,  now  to  your  noblesse  be  true, 

l 


I3° 


SOPHOCLES 


Depart  these  purlieus,  nor  presume  to  view 
The  unpermitted,  nor  the  voices  hear. 

Remove,  delay  not :  one  alone  be  near, 

Theseus,  by  right  empowered,  to  watch  the  affair.” 
Thus  much  we  all,  as  many  as  were  there, 
Heard  him  pronounce.  Sighing  abundantly 
We  with  the  damsels  went  in  company. 

When  someway  gone  we  turned  ere  long  to  scan — 
No  longer  present  anywhere  the  man  ! 

The  King  we  saw  :  hand  reached  before  his  face 
To  shade  his  eyes,  as  if  there  had  took  place 
Some  grim  affright  which  eyes  could  not  endure. 
Then  in  a  little  (’twas  not  long,  I’m  sure), 

We  saw  that  he  the  Earth  and  Sky  adored, 

Earth  and  Olympian  Heaven  in  one  accord. 

But  what  the  manner  of  that  doom  might  be 
No  man  can  tell  except  his  Majesty. 

For  neither  did  God’s  thunder  primed  with  flame 
Despatch  him,  neither  blast  of  whirlwind  came 
Out  of  the  deep  sea  stirring  in  that  hour. 

Some  God  did  usher  him,  or  gracious  power 
The  rayless  bottom  of  the  earth  disparted  ; 

For  neither  sickness- racked  nor  heavy-hearted 
Was  his  leave-taking,  but  beyond  compare 
Prodigious.  Call  me  madman,  little  I  care 
The  man  that  calls  me  madman,  to  convince  ! 
Chorus  Leader .  Where  are  the  maids  and  escort  of  the 
prince  ? 

Mes.  Here,  not  far  off.  Yon  soon-deciphered  cries 
Of  mourning  their  approach  do  advertise. 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  131 


Enter  Antigone  and  Ismene. 

Trio  :  Antigone,  Ismene,  and  Chorus. 

( Turn  A .) 

Ant .  Woe  !  woe  !  To  wail  aloud  is  granted 

(No  may-be-yes,may-be-nay)  when  we  sorrow  for 
Accursed  father’s  blood  in  us  implanted. 
Weariful  history 

Ours  with  himday  by  day — never  a  morrow  more  ! 
Only  hereafter  we  cite  you  a  mystery 
Of  grief  beheld  and  tasted. 

Cho .  How  went  it  ? 

Ant.  Surmising,  friends,  ’tis  but  surmise. 

Cho.  Departed  ? 

Ant.  Ev’n  as  heart’s  desire  would  have  him  be. 

Verily  no  brunt  of  sea, 

No  plague  of  war  hath  wasted  ; 

But  the  Viewless  Weald  did  swallow 
In  a  recondite  doom  hurried  away. 

Unhappy  !  Night  upon  my  eyes 
Now  is  fallen,  Night  disastrous  :  whither  are 
we  now  to  stray  ? 

Foreign  soil  or  deep-sea  billow  ?  Where 
pursue  the  chance 
Of  our  distressful  maintenance  ? 

Ism.  Little  know  I  :  ravening  clutch  of  Death  seize 
on  me  ! 

After  father  dead  to  follow, 

Unhappy,  afterdays  of  life  gladly  to  live  declining. 
Cho.  Dutiful  daughters,  Fate  so  bearing, (82)  better  to 
bear  the  God’s  decree  : 

Burn  ye  no  more,  your  ways  have  been  worthy 
of  no  repining. 


x32 


SOPHOCLES 


[Counter-turn  A.) 

Ant.  For  e’en  woes  past  there  is  regret  then  ! 

Welcome  a  lot  that  were  welcome  to  nobody, 
Because  that  in  my  arms  I  had  him  yet  then  ! 

Father  and  well-belov’d, 

Now  that  the  Darkness  Eternal’s  a  robe  to  thee 
Y et  of  my  sister  and  me  shall  ye  still  be  loved, 
And  we  will  fail  thee  never. 

Cho .  He  fareth — 

Ant.  He  fareth  as  he  fain  would  fare. 

Cho.  Can  that  be  ? 

Ant.  In  the  stranger’s  land  that  pleased  him  best, 

Perished  he  takes  his  rest 

In  the  shadow  laid  for  ever  ; 

Leaves  us  mourning — oh  not  tearless  ! 
Father,  I  weep  for  thee  abundantly,  my  eye 
Bemoans  thee  ;  and  I  cannot  bear — 

Cannot  find  a  means  to  make  the  heavy  sorrow  fly. 
Ay  me  !  In  the  foreign  country  die  thou 
wouldst,  but  oh  ! 

(83> Unhonoured  by  me  diedst  thou  so! 

Ism .  Oh,  unhappy  !  is  there  yet  another  anguish  left 
at  last — 

So  forsaken,  helpless,  cheerless — 

Y et  held  in  wait  for  thee  and  me  ? — fatherless 
and  denuded  ! 

Cho.  Yet,  as  in  blessedness  his  end  of  life  unravelling, 
he  passed  ; 

Cease  to  lament.  Pain  dogs  mankind,  not  to  be 
long  eluded. 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  133 


( Turn  £.)(84) 

Ant .  Back,  sister,  let  us  hasten — 

Ism.  What  to  try  ? 

Ant.  Yearning  is  upon  me. 

Ism.  What  ? 

Ant.  Earth-buried  abode  to  contemplate. 

Ism.  Of  whom  ? 

Ant.  A  father’s  !  O  my  fate  ! 

Ism.  Can  this  be  lawful  ?  Dost  thou  not 
Comprehend  ? 

Ant.  Why  am  I  reproved  ? 

Ism.  This,  moreover - 

Ant.  Is  there  a  more  yet  ? 

Ism.  Burial  none  has  he,  lonely,  removed. 

Ant.  To  it !  away  !  and  slay  me  o’er  it ! 

Ism.  Woe  !  woe  !  all-unhappy,  where  now 
Once  again,  forlorn,  resourceless. 

Drag  out  my  day  of  care  now  ? 


134 


SOPHOCLES 


( Counter-turn  B.) 

Cho.  Be  not  alarmed,  dears. 

Ant .  But  whither  must  I  fly  ? 

Cho .  Already  deliverance 

Ant.  Eh  ? 

Cho .  Has  saved  your  fortunes  from  distress. 

Ant.  I  see.  .  .  . 

Cho.  Deny  me  not  your  guess. 

Ant.  How  shall  we  homeward  make  our  way, 

I  despair. 

Cho.  Put  the  thought  behind  you  ! 

Ant.  Misery  enfolds - 

Cho.  Whiles  ago  ye  donned  that ! 

Ant.  Then  inevitable,  and  now  beyond  that. 

Cho.  Perilous  gulf,  as  it  were,  assigned  you. 

Ant .  Woe  !  woe  !  Zeus,  we  know  not  where  now  ! 
Hope — is  any  hope  yet,  whither 
A  God  can  bid  repair  now  ? 


GEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS  135 


Enter  Theseus. 

Duet  in  Marching  Measure .  Theseus  and 

Antigone. 

The .  Cease  the  lament :  ’tis  a  time  not  for  mourn¬ 
ing. 

Grace  of  the  grave  will  abide  as  a  treasure 
Joint-stored.(85)  ’Tis  a  sin  to  be  yearning. 

Ant .  O  son  of  Aegeus,  list  to  us  kneeling  ! 

The.  Daughter,  the  suit  that  you  plead,  say,  what 
is  it  ? 

Ant .  Grave  of  our  sire  we’re  fain  to  revisit : 

With  our  eyes  let  us  see  ! 

The.  Nay,  this  cannot  be. 

Ant .  Prince  of  the  Athenians,  is  this  our  answer  ? 

The.  Children,  the  place  is  debarred  —  ’twas  his 
pleasure — 

Mortal  approach  may  never  advance  there, 
Mortal  voice  he  forbade  the  revealing 
Where  in  his  hallowed  grave  he  reposes  : 

Which  commandment  duly  obeying, 

Ever  unhurt  shall  abide  my  nation. 

Such  was  the  bond,  and  a  God  stood  witness, 
Oath,  son  of  Zeus,  a  God  all-surveying. 

Ant.  Nay,  but  if  such  were  his  charges,  a  fitness 
Makes  us  accept  such  consummation. 

Home  to  the  ancient  Thebes  then  send,  to 
Stay  if  we  may  what  approaches  of  slaughter 
Threaten  our  kin  there. 

The.  Thereto  aid,  all  aid  will  I  lend  to 

Further  your  cause,  and  the  cause,  my  daughter, 


136 


SOPHOCLES 


Of  the  one  ’neath  th’  earth,  newly  within 
there. 

Gratitude  forbids  me  to  falter. 

Chorus. 

Nay,  but  enough  of  your  dirges  so  tearful : 

Time  to  be  cheerful  ! 

The  thing  fast-fixed  cannot  alter. 

[Exeunt, 


EROS 


Terra-cotta  Statuette  in  the  British  Museum 


/.  136 


ANTIGONE 


Scene. — Before  the  gates  of  the  Palace  at  Thebes .  Time  : 

Early  morning. 

Ant.  Kinborn,  Ismene,  in  sistership  germane, 

Know  you  in  all  our  sire’s  entail  of  pain 
A  thing  the  like  of  which  Zeus  has  not  wrought 
On  us  surviving  ?  Ever  anguish-fraught ! 
Fraught  ever  with  the  curse  !  No  shame  so 
mean 

But  in  your  lot  and  mine  the  like  I’ve  seen  ! 

And  now,  once  more,  upon  the  people  at  large, 
Newly  proclaimed,  they  say  the  king  lays  charge 
Of — what  ?  You  have  no  word  ?  You  do  not 
know 

How  on  our  friends  moves  malice  from  this  foe  ? 

Ism.  Of  those  dear  ones  of  ours,  Antigone, 

No  news,  welcome  or  painful,  ’s  come  to  me 

Since  we  two  were  bereft  of  brothers  two, 

Whom  on  one  day  a  double  murder  slew. 

Since  the  Argeian  host  this  night  withdrew 

From  leaguer,  I’m  aware  of  nothing  more, 

Blessing  or  tribulation,  than  before. 

Ant.  I  knew  it  well ;  and  here  without  preferred 

To  speak  where  you  may  hear  unoverheard. 

Ism.  O  brooding  groundswell  of  the  unuttered  word  ! 

137 


138  SOPHOCLES 

Ant .  Yes  !  Burial  !  Creon  has  advanced  one  brother 
Of  yours  and  mine,  to  disappoint  the  other  : 
Eteocles,  they  say,  in  earth’s  enshrined 
Duly,  to  honour  among  the  dead  consigned  ; 
The  corpse  of  Polyneices,  cruelly  slain, 

Word  is  gone  out  that  every  man  refrain 
From  burying  in  the  grave,  or  making  moan  : 
Unwept,  unburied,  left  to  birds,  alone, 

Choice  hoard  for  watchful  appetites  to  see  ! 

They  say  so  runs  it,  mark  you — nay,  let  me 
Too  mark  it ! — our  good  Creon’s  high  decree  ; 
He  comes  his  proclamation  here  to  make 
To  all  the  unapprised,  and  does  not  take 
The  thing  for  naught ;  but  whoso  dares  to  try, 
It  is  appointed  shall  be  stoned  and  die. 

So  stands  the  case  :  you  soon  must  prove  the 
worth 

Of  your  noblesse,  or  base  belie  your  birth. 

Ism.  If  this  be  so,  what  help,  O  sorely  tried, 

To  unravel  or  to  knit  can  I  provide  ? 

Ant.  Think  : — if  you’ll  follow  me  to  do  and  dare ! 

Ism.  What  sort  of  venture  ?  Stands  your  purpose — 
where  ? 

Ant.  — If  you  will  help  this  arm  to  uplift  the  dead  ! 
Ism.  You  mean  to  bury  him  ? — prohibited  ? 

Ant.  Mine,  and — if  you  refuse — your  brother  :  yes. 
Ism.  When  Creon  has  said  you  nay  ?  Foolhardiness  ! 
Ant.  He  has  no  business  me  from  mine  to  bar. 

Ism.  O  sister,  be  advised  of  what  we  are  ! 

Our  sire  fell,(86)  execrated  and  defamed, 

With  suicidal  stroke  his  vision  maimed, 

Of  self-detected  sins  for  very  shame  ; 

And  then  the  mother-wife,  the  double  name, 


ANTIGONE 


J39 


With  twined  noose  wrought  on  her  life  defeat ; 
And,  third,  one  day  has  seen  two  brothers  meet 
To  kill  themselves,  and  there,  unfortunates  ! 
With  kindred  hands  achieve  their  mutual  fates. 

And  we,  if  now — forsaken,  quite  alone — 

We  brave  the  power  or  verdict  of  the  throne 
Despite  the  law,  take  thought  how  far  the 
worst 

Our  end  will  be.  We  must  remember,  first, 
We’re  but  a  pair  of  women,  as  not  to  fight 
With  men  ;  and  also,  being  ruled  of  might, 

In  this,  and  harder  ev’n  than  this,  to  obey. 

So  I,  upon  this  plea  of  force,  shall  pray 
For  pardon  to  the  people  underground^ — 

And  loyal  to  authorities  be  found  : 

There  is  no  sense  in  being  meddlesome. 

Ant.  I’ll  bid  you  not !  Nor,  tho’  you  cared  to  come 
Hereafter,  would  I  gladly  such  ally 
Accept  !  Be  what  you  like  !  But  him  will  I 
Bury — and  if  I  die  in  the  act,  ’tis  good  : 

Dear  will  I  lie  in  his  dear  neighbourhood, 

A  saintly  malefactress.  There  not  here  (88> 

I  have  the  longer  date  myself  to  endear  : 

There  must  I  lie  forever.  You,  no  doubt, 

The  holy  truths (89)  of  use  and  wont  may  flout ! 
Ism.  It  is  not  that  I  flout  them  ;  but  to  brave 
The  public  will — I  could  not  so  behave  ! 

Ant.  I  leave  you  then  to  such  pretences  ;  I 

Go  heap  my  darling  brother’s  barrow  high. 

Ism .  Unhappy  girl !  Oh  how  for  you  I  fear  ! 

Ant.  Quake  not  for  me,  but  lift  your  own  life  clear ! 
Ism.  So  be  it  then  ! — Yet  one  thing  tho’ :  apprise 
None  of  this  deed.  Keep  dark,  and  I  likewise. 


SOPHOCLES 


140 

Ant.  Denounce  it  !  Fail  to  blaze  it  high  and  low, 
And  silence  only  makes  you  more  my  foe ! (91) 
Ism.  “  Hot  heart  on  chilly  venture  ”  (92) — there’s  your 
case. 

Ant .  I’m  sure  I  please  where  most  I  need  gain  grace. 
Ism.  But  power  l  You  crave  for  things  which  cannot 
be  ! 

Ant.  W ell,  when  my  strength  ends,  there’s  an  end  of  me. 
Ism.  What  cannot  be,  is  best  left  unpursued. 

Ant.  If  that’s  your  text,  with  me  you’ll  be  at  feud, 
And  meet  the  dead  in  his  just  feud  no  less. 

Leave  it  to  me  and  my  wrongheadedness 
To  face  this  frightful  thing  !  For  naught  can 
come 

To  rob  me  of  my  glory  in  martyrdom. 

Ism.  Well,  if  you  will,  set  on  !  But  never  fear  ; 

Mad  ways  to  dear  ones  make  you  no  less  dear. 

[ Exeunt . 


Epitaph. 

O’er  my  back  the  mallows  pass,  But  within  my  bosom  dwells 

And  thickly  root  the  asphodels  ;  La'ios’  son,  CEdipodas.” 


142 


SOPHOCLES 


Enter  Chorus  of  Theban  Elders ,  assembled  to  celebrate 
the  dawn  of  day  after  the  victory . 

(1  st  Turn.) 

Sunbeam  !  Never  a  lovelier 
Dawned  on  Thebes  to  awaken  her 

Seven  Ports  in  the  days  of  old  ! 

The  Dawn,  ris’n  at  last,  in  a  gleam, 

Passes  over  the  Dirce  stream, 

Open  eyelid  of  dayspring  golden  ! 

Foeman  mail’d  with  buckler  of  white, 
Who  from  Argos  sallied  to  fight, 
Precipitately  she  turns  him  to  flight — 
Bit  nor  bridle  can  hold  him  ! 


(1st  Movement ,  of  marching  measure .) 

In  the  cause  of  the  Son  of  Debate  (93>  he  arose, 
In  the  cause  of  debate  and  of  quarrel  he  fell 
On  the  country  to  whelm  it. 

Loud  he  screamed,  as  an  eagle  upsoaring, 

All  proof-mailed  in  a  snow-white  feather, 
Gathering  men-at-arms  many  together, 
With  a  horsehair  crest  on  his  helmet. 


ANTIGONE 


143 


(ij/  Counter-turn .) 

O’er  our  halls  did  the  eagle  tow’r  ! 

Spears  blood-mad  in  a  ring  at  our 

Sev’n  Port  entries,  he  gaped  to  slay  ! 

But  pass’d,  ere  on  gore  of  his  foe 
Jaws  could  batten,  or  piny  glow 

Strip  our  Thebes  of  the  towers  that  braid  her. 
Loud  to  rearward,  loud  as  he  fled, 
Thrilled  the  clang  of  battle  and  spread  ! 
’Tis  the  progeny  of  the  Dragon, (94)  a  dread 
Piece  to  baulk  an  invader  ! 


( 2nd  Movement .)  <95> 

For  the  anger  of  Zeus,  it  is  heavy  on  those 
Whose  tongue  vaunts  highly  ;  He  marked  full  well 
Clangour  of  golden  array  vainglorious — 
Marked  floodtide  of  assault  on-sweeping  ; — 

Then  with  a  levelled  flame  He  felled  him 
Just  at  the  finish — aloft  now  ! — leaping 
To  upraise  an  Hurrah  !  victorious  ! 


144 


SOPHOCLES 


{2nd  Turn,) 

Frantic  in  ecstasy  pressed  he  against  us,  breathing 
Blasts  of  his  enmity :  swung  in  his  own  flame's 
wreathing, 

Down  he  tumbled  on  earth  ;  whose  ground 
Made  his  fall  to  rebound. 

So  mis-fared 
What  he  dared ! 

All  were  o’erthrown  ! 

Each  one  his  own 
Doom  they  have  found  ! 

Ares  !  None  carries  a  collar  with  Ares !  ^ 


(3 rd  Movement .) 

At  the  Seven  Town-Ports  seven  chiefs  were  arrayed  ; 
Every  man  in  a  match  with  his  man  there  paid 
Of  his  panoply  tax  to  the  Turner  of  Fights.  (97> 

But  the  Pair,(98)  the  Accurst,  each  upon  other, 

By  might  of  the  lance  victory  merit, 

And — of  self  sire  born,  born  of  a  mother — 

Joint  portion  of  death  coinherit. 


ANTIGONE 


H5 


( 2nd  Counter-turn .) 

Merry  to  see  that  the  Lady  of  Cars (99)  is  merry, 
Victory  came,  the  renown’d.  ’Tis  a  time  to  bury 
These  late  wars  in  forgetfulness  ; 

Time  it  is  to  address 
Holy  feet, 

The  fanes  to  greet. 

All  the  night  long, 

Dances  and  song  ! 

Bacchus  will  bless — 

Leader  will  he  be,  the  Shaker  of  Theb6  ! 


K 


146 


SOPHOCLES 


Enter  Creon. 

Cho.  (in  march  measure ).  Nay,  look  !  for  the  king  of 
the  land  draws  near  : 

’Tis  the  son  of  Menoeceus— Creon  is  here. 

New  changes  and  chances  a  new  king  have  made. 
To  what  end  does  he  ply  the  quick  oarage  of 
thought  ? 

Wherefore  has  he  brought, 

Us  convoked,  grey  heads  of  the  nation  ? 

Before  us  to  debate,  what  the  issues  laid  ? 

— Thus  called  by  his  high  proclamation. 


Cre.  The  common  weal,  Sirs,  shook  by  tempest  sore, 
The  Gods  have  soundly  righted  as  before. 

But  for  ourselves  :  my  message  summoned  you, 
Separate  from  the  mass,  because  I  knew 
Both  your  tried  faith  to  Laios’  kingly  power, 
And  too  when  CEdipus  was  governour  ; 

And  after  his  undoing,  when  his  heirs 
Reigned,  you  were  steadfast  partizans  of  theirs. 

Now  since  a  double  doom  has  laid  them  low 
In  one  day — smitten  and  smiters  of  the  blow — 
Tainted,  as  whoso  shall  his  own(100)  blood  shed  ; 
’Tis  I,  by  next-of-kinship  to  the  dead, 

Who  hold  the  royal  seat  and  high  control. 

There  is  no  means  nicely  to  gauge  the  soul,<101) 
Temper,  and  wit  of  any  man,  unless 
By  rub  of  rule  and  law  he  first  confess 
His  quality.  Whoso  rules  a  people  as  king, 

And  does  not  by  the  best  of  counsel  cling, 


ANTIGONE 


*47 


But  puts  a  lock  on ’s  tongue  from  any  fear, 
Appears  to  me,  and  ever  did  appear, 

A  rogue.  The  man  who  more  for  friend  can  care 
Than  for  his  native  land,  I  rate  nowhere. 

Myself  (all-seeing  Zeus,  eternal,  hear  me  !) 

I  could  not  hold  my  peace  and  see  draw  near  me 
Instead  of  civil  weal  a  civil  woe  ; 

Nor  could  I  ever  make  my  country’s  foe 
My  private  friend  :  because  ’tis  she,  I  know, 
Who  keeps  us  all  in  life  ;  she  must  maintain 
An  even  keel  ere  any  friends  we  gain. 

By  such  precepts  this  realm  will  I  enrich. 
Joint-twin  to  these  is  now  the  edict  which 
Touching  the  race  of  CEdipus  I  make  : 

Eteocles,  who  for  the  land  did  stake 
His  life,  and  lost  it  in  a  gallant  fight, 

Shall  be  entombed  and  shriven  with  every  rite 
That  reaches  the  most  noble  dead  below. 

But  Polyneices,  his  blood-brother — No  ! 

— Who  dared,  a  banished  outlaw,  to  return 
To  home  and  native  Gods,  essayed  to  burn 
And  wreck  his  home  and  Gods  with  fire,  essayed 
To  sup  on  kindred  blood,  and  would  have  made 
Slaves  of  the  rest — our  high  command  it  is, 

No  dirge  nor  burial  ceremony  be  his  ; 

But,  left  unburied,  meat  his  carcase  be 
For  birds  and  dogs,  outraged  for  eyes  to  see. 

Such  is  my  temper  :  it  shall  not  be  my  deed 
When  rogues  in  honour  shall  the  just  exceed. 
This  land  of  ours,  who  sets  his  love  upon  her, 
Alive  or  dead,  of  me  he  shall  have  honour  ! 
L.ofCho.  So  runs  your  pleasure,  Creon,  Menoeceus’  son, 
Towards  the  ill-willing  and  towards  the  loyal  one. 


148 


SOPHOCLES 


To  take  all  order  is  your  prerogative 
Both  for  the  dead  and  all  of  us  who  live. 

Cre.  Mind  that  you  watch  to  execute  my  word  ! 

Lea.  This  task  were  best  on  younger  men  conferr’d. 

Cre.  Watching  the  corpse  ?  For  that  I  have  my  men. 

Lea.  What  more  do  you  enjoin  upon  us  then  ? 

Cre.  Yourselves  with  the  rebellious  not  to  ally. 

Lea.  No  man’s  so  foolish  that  he  craves  to  die  ! 

Cre.  True,  that’s  the  wages  of  it !  Lucre  though 
Oft  plays  upon  surmise  to  bring  men  low. 

Enter  a  guard  as  Messenger. 

Mes.  My  lord,  I  will  not  say,  u  With  labouring  lung 
I  am  arrived ,  so  brisk  a  leg  I  swung  ;  ” 

For  halts  of  meditation  many  I  made, 

Oft  on  my  road  I  wheeled  about  and  stayed, 
Because  my  heart,  I  found,  had  much  to  say, 

“  Poor  fellow  !  going  where  you  ll  have  to  pay  ?  ” 

“  Stopping  again  ?  O  wretch  !  If  Creon  hears 
This  from  another ,  what  can  save  your  ears  ?  ” 
Revolving  so,  despatch  ran  none  too  fast : 

Short  road  grows  long  thus.  Anyhow,  at  last 
It  gained  the  day  that  I  should  come.  I  know 
It  may  be  nothing — I  will  tell  it  though. 

The  worst  that  can  befall  me  is  but  such 
As  doom  predestinates  :  that  faith  I  clutch. 

Cre.  But  what’s  the  matter,  man,  that  you’re  so  glum  ? 

Mes.  First,  if  you  please,  about  myself! — because 
I  did  not  do  it,  and  saw  not  who  it  was  ; 

To  any  hurt  I  cannot  fairly  come. 

Cre.  Y ou  take  long  aim,  and  fence  it  well  about, 

This  business !  'T is  some  startling  news,  no  doubt. 


ANTIGONE 


149 


Mes .  Ugly  affairs  to  hesitation  lend. 

Cre.  Cannot  you  speak,  and  go,  and  'make  an  end  ? 
Mes.  Well,  speak  I  do.  That  dead  man — one  has  just 
Buried  him  and  departed,  thirsty  dust 
Sprinkling  upon  his  flesh,  and  duly  shriving. 

Cre.  What’s  that  ?  What  man  did  hazard  this  con¬ 
triving  ? 

Mes.  I  know  not.  There  was  neither  pickaxe’  stroke, 
Nor  mattock’s  throwing  up  ;  the  ground  unbroke, 
Unscored  by  wheels — a  hard  and  barren  place. 
This  was  your  sort  of  man  that  leaves  no  trace  ! 
The  first  day- watchman  points  it  out,  and  then 
An  awkward  wonder  fell  on  all  our  men. 

He  was  invisible  : — not  barrow-piled  ; 

Dust,  thin  strewn — one  who  feared  to  be  defiled, (102) 
You’d  say.  But  trace  of  dog  or  savage  beast 
Coming  and  tearing  at  him,  none  the  least  ! 

Then  ugly  words — one  with  another,  guard 
Accusing  guard — ran  high  ;  it  had  gone  hard 
To  end  in  blows  (and  none  was  there  to  stay), 
For  every  one  to  each,  u’Twas  you,”  might  say  : 
None  manifest,  all  pleading  ignorance. 

Lift  red-hot  iron  ?  Through  the  fire  advance  ? 
Swear  by  the  Gods? — each  man  was  nothing  loath 
To  clear  himself  of  the  act,  by  test  or  oath, — 
That  nor  design  nor  deed  he  did  abet. 

— But  when,  in  search,  we  could  no  further  get, 
One  up  and  speaks,  and  moves  us  all  to  bow 
Our  heads  to  earth,  because  we  knew  not  how 
To  answer  him  ;  nor  yet,  if  we  complied, 

To  come  well  off : — his  speech  was  Not  to  hide 
The  business ,  but  report  to  you.  The  plan 
Carried  the  day,  and  me  (unlucky  man  !) 


SOPHOCLES 


150 

The  lot  adjudged  to  draw  this  prize  ;  and  so 
Misliking  and  by  you  misliked,  I  know, 

I’m  here  :  none  loves  the  messenger  of  woe. 

Z.  of  Cho.  Prince  !  from  the  first  my  conscience  bade 
me  ponder — 

“  May  be  the  hand  of  God  was  working 
yonder !  ” 

Cre .  Cease  ! — ere  your  words  quite  cram  me  full  with 
rage. 

Prove  not  yourself  a  dotard  in  your  age. 

You  said  a  thing  past  patience,  when  you  said 
That  Gods  can  have  regard  for  this  man  dead. 
Was  it  as  benefactor,  prized,  none  higher, 

They  covered  him  who  came  to  burn  with  fire 
The  colonnaded  temple  and  treasure-chamber, 
Their  sacred  lands  to  burn,  their  laws  dismember  ? 
Gods  honouring  a  villain  ?  See  you  that  ? 
Impossible  !  ( meditates  for  a  while) 

This  they  were  chafing  at :  (103) 
They  stirred  against  me  from  the  first — supprest 
Shaking  of  heads — they  never  had  their  crest 
Fairly  beneath  the  yoke,  nor  acquiesced. 

It  is  by  those, (103)  I’m  very  sure,  that  these 
Were  brought  to  play  this  trick,  seduced  with  fees. 
— Ay  !  never  usage  grew  which  so  disgraced 
Mankind  as  money  ! (104)  This  lays  cities  waste, 
From  dwelling-place  evicts  the  citizen  ; 
Sophisticates,  makes  minds  of  honest  men, 

Gone  wrong,  take  up  with  dirty  businesses  ; 
Points  them  to  knavish  ways  ;  puts  godlessness 
Into  their  heart  enough  for  any  crime  ! — 

But  all  these  hireling  perpetrators,  time 
Will  prove,  have  only  got  the  price  to  pay. 


ANTIGONE 


151 

As  I  still  worship  Zeus  in  the  old  way, 

— Now  mark  me  well !  my  oath  to  what  I  say — 
Unless  you  shall  discover  and  display 
The  felon  author  of  this  burial  rite 
Before  my  eyes,  mere  death  for  you’s  too  light, 
Till  first,  dangling  alive,  you  shall  reveal 
This  wantonness.  I’ll  teach  you  whence  to  steal 
When  next  you  go  for  gains !  I’ll  have  you  learn 
To  love  not  gain  where’er  the  gain  you  earn  ! 
For  you  shall  note,  a  man  by  dirty  pelf 
More  often  damnifies  than  helps  himself! 

Mes.  One  word  you’ll  grant  ? — or,  straight  to  right¬ 
about  ? 

Cre.  Cannot  you  see  your  talking  puts  me  out  ? 

Mes.  Is’t  in  the  ear  it  stings  or  in  the  soul  ? 

Cre.  Would  you  my  pain,  its  whereabouts,  control  ? 

Mes.  The  culprit  grieves  your  heart,  and  I  your  ears. 

Cre.  Ugh  !  what  a  rattle  born  the  fellow  appears! 

Mes.  Well,  but  at  least,  that  trick  I  never  played. 

Cre.  Y es !  and,  what’s  more,  for  coin  your  life  betrayed  ! 

Mes.  Dear,  dear  ! 

’Tis  hard  a  man  must  guess  and  guess  amiss  !  <105) 

Cre.  Oh,  mince  away  with  “  guessing  ”  !  If  of  this 
You  shew  me  not  the  authors,  you  shall  preach 
That  woe’s  the  gain  of  rogues  that  overreach  ! 

[Exit. 

Mes.  May  he  be  found  ! — by  all  means.  But  be  he 
Caught  or  not  caught — that  lies  in  Luck’s  decree — 
Here  shall  you  not  again  set  eyes  on  me  ! — 
Saved  (many  thanks  1  owe  the  Gods  for  it) — 
Past  all  belief  this  time  or  human  wit. 


[Exit. 


152 


SOPHOCLES 


Chorus.<106) 

(ist  Turn.) 

Wonder  and  awe  at  large  I  find  : 

No  such  wonder  of  all  as  Man  ! 
Overseas  will  it  pass  to  span 
Oceans,  grey  with  an  angry  wind ; 

Low  under  a  gulfing  world 
Up-swirl’d 

Of  billow,  sail  it  can  ! 

And  Earth,  the  Pow’r  of  highest  birth, 

The  Earth, 

Deathless,  unwearying — ever  as  year  for  year 
Furrowing-season  revolves — he  will  weary  her 
And  grind, 

Ploughing  with  the  steed 
His  breed. 


( 1st  Counter-turn .) 

Sort  of  the  madcap  birds  in  air, 

Savage  people  of  beasts  in  the  fields, 
Sea-creation  that  ocean  yields — 

All  in  toils  of  a  mesh-spun  snare 
Ta’en  captive  he  leads  away, 

For  prey. 

Man  !  the  wits  he  wields  1 
The  brutes  that  from  the  wilds,  their  home, 

Do  roam 

Large  on  the  mountain,  he  tames  ;  and  a  shaggy-neck’d 
Steed  with  his  crest  in  a  collar  to  drag  he  breaks  ; 
Ploughshare 

Tireless  mountain  bull 
Must  pull ! 


ANTIGONE 


153 


{2nd  Turn.) 

And  Language  and  windy-quick  Thought 
He  taught  it  himself,  and  the  temper  of  Order  and 
Polity  undistraught 

He  taught. 

He,  though  the  air  drearily  freezes, 

Though  the  rain 
Beats  amain, — 

Knows  a  remedy  !  Remediless  encountereth 
No  morrow,  what 
E’er  his  lot : 

Only  no  escape  from  Death 

Procures,  by  lore  which  fails  him  not 
Against  diseases. 


( 2nd  Counter-turn.) 

His  subtlety  passes  belief 

In  cunning  invention  of  Art  !,  Very  brief  is  his 
journey  to  Glory,  brief 
To  grief! 

The  man  that  acts  Law’s  upbearer, 

And  his  oath 
Holds  for  troth, 

Proud  citizen  is  he  ! — Cityless,  when  venturesome 
With  worser  tricks 
He  shall  mix  ! 

Ne’er  such  man  with  me  become 

Hearth-mate,  nor  in  his  politics 
May  I  be  sharer  ! 


154 


SOPHOCLES 


Enter  Antigone,  in  arrest ,  guarded  by  the  former 

Messenger. 

Chorus  [in  march  measure). 

Sight  portentous  !  I  doubt  and  I  wonder — 
Nay,  but  I  know  :  there  is  no  gainsaying : 
That  is  Antigone,  that  child  yonder  ! 

Oh,  the  ill-fated 

Of  an  ill-fated  father  engendered  ! 

What  is  it  ?  Oh,  not  thou  disobeying 
Kings’  commands  ?  To  arrest  surrendered 
In  the  folly  her  heart  meditated  ? 


Gua.  Here  is  the  one  that  carried  out  the  thing  ! 

We  caught  her  burying  him.  But  where’s  the 
King  ? 

L.  of  Cho.  Here,  from  the  house  he  comes  to  answer 
that. 

Enter  Creon. 

Cre.  Eh  ?  What’s  the  event  my  coming  suits  so  pat  r 
Gua .  Man  never  ought  to  swear  I  will  not ,  Prince  ! 
For  after-thought  belies  opinion.  Since 
I  could  have  vowed,  Not  soon  YU  here  be  seen 
After  your  threats,  belaboured  as  I’d  been. 

Ah  !  but  the  extra  joy,  the  glad  surprise, 

No  pleasure  can  be  match’d  with  that  for  size  ! 
Tho’  sworn  I  will  not ,  here  I  come  and  bring 
This  maiden  :  she  was  taken  furnishing 
The  burial  forth.  No  casting  lots  for  this  ! 

My  Godsend — none  beside  can  say  'twas  his  ! 


ANTIGONE 


i55 

Now,  Sir,  you  have  her  :  take,  as  pleases  you, 
Try  her  and  question  her  !  But  I  am  due 
To  get  my  full  discharge  from  all  the  stew  ! 

Cre.  Arrested — whence  ? — this  maid  ?  How  came 
you  at  her  ? 

Gua.  She  was  burying  him.  You  have  the  matter. 
Cre.  Do  you  mean  and  comprehend  the  thing  you've 
said  ? 

Gua.  Yes  ;  for  I  saw  her  burying  him,  the  dead  ; 

Whom  you  forbade.  Is  that  plain  tale  of  fact  ? 
Cre .  How  was  she  seen  and  seized  outright  in  the  act  ? 
Gua.  The  matter  went  this  way.  No  sooner  there 
(Under  your  dreadful  menace  as  we  were), 

We  swept  the  dusty  wrapper  which  enclosed 
The  dead,  and  left  the  weltering  corpse  exposed. 
To  windward,  by  the  hilltop,  down  we  sit, 

Well  out  of  range  for  stink  from  him  to  hit. 

And  man  kept  man  with  ugly  words  alert 
If  any  one  his  duty  should  desert. 

So  for  a  time  it  was,  till  by-and-by 
The  sun’s  bright  disk  rode  midway  up  the  sky, 
And  heat  grew  scorching  :  when  a  sudden  gust 
(Sky-plague  !)  uplifts  from  earth  a  storm  of  dust. 
It  fills  the  plain  and  all  the  leafy  wood 
Along  the  plain  torments  ;  high  heaven  stood 
Thick.  Closing  eye,  the  pest  of  God  we  took. 
'Twas  long  before ’t  abated.  Then  we  look, 
And  lo  !  the  girl !  with  wails  of  high  distress — 
Shrill  as  the  cry  of  bird  in  bitterness 
To  see  home  rifled,  chick-bereaved  the  bed  : 

— And  even  so,  when  stripped  she  sees  the  dead, 
She  screamed  a  loud  lament,  and  with  the  worst 
Curses  the  doers  of  the  deed  she  cursed. 


156 


SOPHOCLES 


Then  drouthy  dust  in  hand  straightway  she  fetched, 
And  from  a  jug  of  hammered  bronze,  out¬ 
stretched, 

With  three  libation-draughts  the  dead  she  crowned. 
But  when  we  saw,  we  up  and  closed  around, 
And  took  her  in  a  moment — undismayed. 

When  to  her  charge  the  former  acts  we  laid, 
And  these,  she  did  not  offer  to  deny 
At  all.  Both  glad  and  sorry  at  once  was  I  : 
Right  glad  when  your  own  trouble’s  at  an  end 
For  you,  but  sorry  work  to  bring  a  friend 
To  trouble  !  Oh  !  but  all  such  things  amount 
To  little  when  my  own  escape  I  count  ! 

Cre.  (to  Ant.)  You — you,  who  toward  the  ground 
your  glances  bow, 

Do  you  deny  this  action  or  avow  ? 

Ant.  I  do  avow  and  not  deny  the  charge. 

Cre.  (to  Gua.)  Take  yourself  off,  where’er  you  like 
to  be, 

Absolved  from  heavy  accusation,  free  ! 

[Exit  Guard. 

(to  Ant.)  You, — tell  me  quick,  no  length  of 
words  ! — you  knew 
The  edict  had  forbidden  so  to  do  ? 

Ant.  Yes.  Could  I  fail  to  know?  ’Twas  noised  at 
large. 

Cre.  And  you  presumed  beyond  the  law  to  go  ? 

Ant.  Yes  :  for  not  Zeus,  I  think,  proclaimed  it  so  ; 
Not  justice,  dwelling  with  the  Gods  below, 

The  type  of  human  statute  so  defiaed/107) 

Nor  could  I  in  your  proclamation  find 

Such  force  that  mortal  creature  might  out-range 

The  unwritten  code  of  Gods  wh  ich  cannot  change : 


ANTIGONE 


157 


Not  of  to-day  nor  yesterday — ’tis  living 
For  evermore,  and  none  can  date  its  giving  ! 
And  was  it  likely  I  should  fear  the  pride 
Of  any  man  so  much  as,  this  defied, 

To  face  God’s  bar  ?  That  I  must  die,  I  knew  : 
Oh  yes — edict  or  no  !  If  ere  time  due, 

I  count  that  gain.  For  one  who  lives,  as  I 
Live,  in  much  misery — how  can  he  die 
And  not  be  gainer  ?  Slight  the  pain  to  me, 

To  meet  this  fate  ;  but  had  I  borne  to  see 
My  mothers  son  a  graveless  corpse  remain, 
Painful  it  had  been  :  now  I  feel  no  pain. 

A  fool’s  act  ?  Well,  are  you  yourself,  who  rule 
My  act  is  folly,  better  than  a  fool  ? 

L.  of  C ho.  Harsh  was  the  sire,  the  breed  proves  harsh 
no  less 

In  her  :  she  knows  no  yielding  in  distress. 

Cre.  Nay,  but  I’ll  have  you  know,  pride  overstiff 
Has  falls  the  most ;  and  hardest  iron,  if 
The  fire  shall  to  excessive  temper  bake, 

You  shall  observe  most  often  flaw  and  break. 

A  little  curb,  when  horses  chafe  and  fume, 

I  know,  will  mend  their  manners  !  little  room 
For  pride  to  swell  when  master  lives  next  door  ! 

This  girl,  adept  in  insolence  before 
When  ordinance  of  law  she  overstepped, 

Proves  now  afresh  in  insolence  adept 
After  the  act :  she  laughs  and  vaunts  her  plan  ! 
Upon  my  word,  I’m  no  man — she’s  the  man 
If  this  triumph  of  hers  go  unatoned  ! 

Not — be  she  sister’s  child — not,  though  she  owned 
More  ties  of  blood  than  all  yon  household  shrine 
Assembles — shall  she  ’scape  from  doom  condign  ! 


i58 


SOPHOCLES 


— Nor  yet  her  sister  ! — on  whom  I  charge  no  whit 
The  less  this  burial,  the  designing  it. 

And  summon  her.  Within,  this  very  hour 
Stark  mad  I  saw  her,  reft  of  reasoning  power. 
Oft  preconvicted  knave  the  heart  hath  stood 
Of  them  that  in  the  dark  devise  no  good. 

Ay  !  but  I  loathe  it  when  detected  in 
Misdeeds  they  seek  to  glorify  the  sin. 

Ant .  To  take  and  kill  me  :  seek  you  more  than  this  ? 
Cre.  Not  I  !  When  I  have  that,  there’s  naught  I  miss  ! 
Ant.  Then  why  delay  ?  There’s  nothing  pleases  me 
That  you  can  utter — never  may  there  be  ! 

And  I'm  not  made  to  be  approved  by  you. 

But,  name  of  more  renown  what  could  I  do 
To  win,  but  bury  my  own-brother  ?  Yes, 
These  men  would  every  one  of  them  confess 
Approval,  did  not  fear  their  tongue  suppress. 
The  happy  state  of  kings  is  happy  chiefest 
In  power  to  do  and  speak  as  they  had  liefest  ! 

Cre .  You  in  all  Thebes  alone  so  view  the  matter. 
Ant.  They  do,  but  fawn  and  wag  their  tongues  to  flatter. 
Cre.  And  can  they  not  shame  you  to  feel  the  same  ? 
Ant.  Pious  towards  my  flesh  and  blood — what  shame  ? 
Cre.  Was  he  who  fell  on  t’other  side  no  brother  ? 

Ant.  Blood-brother  ;  selfsame  sire,  and  one  to  mother. 
Cre.  Impious  to  him  then  was  the  grace  conferred. 
Ant .  The  dead  man  will  not  testify  that  word. 

Cre.  Graced  equal  with  the  impious  ! — that  he  will. 
Ant .  'Tis  no  dead  slave  this  :  'tis  a  brother  still. 

Cre .  Looting  the  land  ! — while  t’other  stood  to  save ! 
Ant.  Death  all  the  same  his  ordinance  will  crave. 

Cre.  Sharing  alike — the  good  and  the  wicked  ?  No. 
Ant.  Who  knows  ?  It  may  be  clean  from  slur  below. 


ANTIGONE 


159 


Cre.  Never  can  foemen  even  in  death  be  lovers. 

Ant .  Pleas  not  for  feud  but  love  my  heart  discovers. 
Cre.  If  love  you  must,  get  you  below  and  give 

Them  love  !  No  woman  rules  me  while  I  live. 

Enter  Ismene,  in  arrest. 

Chorus  ( march  measure ). 

Look  !  At  the  doors  Ismene  approaches  ! 

— Shedding  sisterly  drops  of  affection  : 

Cloud  on  the  brow,  and  a  face  bloodstained  ! 
Comely  complexion 
Disgraced  by  the  tear  that  encroaches  ! 

Cre .  [to  Ism.)  And  you !  viper  in  the  house,  meek, 
lurking  !  you, 

Bloodsucking  me  unobserved — who  little  knew 
What  couple  of  pests — rebellions — I  had  there  ! — 
Come  tell  me  pray,  will  you  confess  a  share 
In  burying  him,  or  cognisance  forswear  ? 

Ism.  The  deed  is  mine — if  she  supports  my  claim  : 

I  take  and  bear  my  portion  in  the  blame. 

Ant.  No  !  that  shall  Right  forbid  !  You  had  no  heart 
To  help  :  I  would  not  yield  you  any  part. 

Ism.  But  now  that  you’re  in  trouble  I  have  no  shame 
Myself  your  shipmate  in  distress  to  name. 

Ant.  Whose  deed  it  was,  Death  and  the  dead  know  best ! 

Friend  that  in  word  befriends  me  I  detest. 

Ism.  Nay,  sister,  disappoint  me  not  of  dying 

With  you,  with  you  the  dead  man  sanctifying. 
Ant.  My  death  you  shall  not  die  !  You  shall  not  own 
Where  you’d  no  finger  !  My  death  serves  alone. 
Ism.  By  you  forsaken,  what  joy  in  life  have  I  ? 

Ant .  Ask  Creon  !  There  your  pious  duties  lie. 


160  SOPHOCLES 

Ism.  Why  will  you  tease  me  so,  with  naught  to  gain  ? 
Ant.  Oh,  if  I  mock  at  you,  I  mock  in  pain. 

Ism.  Could  I  not  ev’n  yet  help  in  any  shape  ? 

Ant.  Save  you  yourself :  I  grudge  not  your  escape. 
Ism.  Wretch  that  I  am  !  Your  end  must  I  resign  ? 
Ant.  Yes;  for  your  choice  was  life,  and  death  was  mine. 
Ism.  — No  plea  unurged  tho’  that  I  could  devise  : — 
Ant.  In  your  eyes  you,  and  I  in  theirs  (108)  was  wise. 
Ism.  Indeed  alike  with  both  transgression  lies. 

Ant.  Take  courage  !  you  have  life  ;  but  long  ago 
My  soul  is  dead  to  help  the  dead  men  so. 

Cre.  This  pair  of  girls,  I  think  they’re  crazy — one 
Of  late,  the  other  since  her  days  begun  ! 

Ism.  Ah,  yes,  my  Lord,  for  even  the  ingrown  wit 
Abides  not  with  mishap,  but  fain  must  flit. 

Cre.  Yours  did  ! — who  with  misdoers  chose  misdeed. 
Ism.  Parted  from  her,  to  live  how  can  I  need  ? 

Cre.  Oh,  she — account  her  not  :  her  days  are  done. 
Ism.  But  can  you  kill  the  bridals  of  your  son  ? 

Cre.  He’ll  find  elsewhere  fields  for  his  husbandry. 

Ism.  But  nowhere  else  their  loving  constancy. 

Cre.  Bad  women  to  my  sons  I  like  not  plighted. 

Ant.  O  darling  Haemon  ! — by  your  father  slighted. 
Cre.  You  and  your  match — I’m  weary  of  you  both  ! 
L.  of  Cho.  You’ll  rob  your  son  of  her  who  had  his  troth  ? 
Cre.  Death  to  this  marriage  puts  a  bar,  not  I. 

L .  of  Cho .  The  warrant  is  gone  forth, then, that  she  die? 
Cre.  Yes!  yours  and  mine.  No  dallying,  now !  within 
Remove  them,  fellows!  Time  that  they  begin 
To  be  more  woman  and  less  gad-at-will. 

Those  run  for  life  at  last  who’re  bold  until 
Death  face  to  face  lay  hand  on  life  to  kill ! 

[ Exeunt  Ant.  and  Ism.,  guarded . 


ANTIGONE 


161 


Creon  remains  alone  on  the  stage ,  while  the 
Chorus  sing : — 

(nr  Turn.) 

How  blest  is  a  man  when  his  days  have  known  no 
taste  of  ill  ! 

Once  a  house  hath  quaked  with  the  shock  of  a 
God’s  ill-will, 

Naught  abates  the  curse  to  the  race  in  its  after- 
teeming  : 

But  so  it  runs  as  when  the  surge, 

Blasts  of  Thrace  rude-blowing  urge, 

Runs  over  the  unilluminable  abysses  creaming  ; 

The  murk  sea-banks  it  rolls  and  tumbles  ; 

All  the  coast  along  the  main, 
Brow-belaboured,  moans  and  rumbles 
In  the  stress  of  hurricane. 


(nr  Counter-turn.) 

V  th’  house  of  the  Labdakidai  distress,  from  days  of 
eld, 

Piled  upon  distress  of  the  dead  men  have  I  beheld  : 
Ne’er  hath  race  of  the  father  a  race  of  the  son 
redeemed. 

The  stroke  of  God  dismantles  it  ; 

Nor  can  ransom  paid  acquit. 

O’er  CEdipus  uttermost  residue  of  a  root  there  beamed 
A  light ;  but  lo  !  now  ’tis  levelled 
By  the  dues  to  Death-Gods  flung 
—  Bloody  dust/109)  a  mind  bedevilled, 
And  the  folly  of  the  tongue  ! 


162 


SOPHOCLES 


[2nd  Turn.) 

O  Zeus !  what  trespass  of  human  daring 
Thy  majestical  reign  can  master? 

Sleep  runneth  not  faster, — 

Sleep  that  is  all-ensnaring  ; 

Nor  the  unwearied  months  mysterious. 

Majesty  aye  unaged  with  time, 

That  reign’st  controlling  amidst  imperious 
Glory  of  light  the  Olympian  clime  ! 

’Tis  a  law  no  morrow,  days  to  come, 

Nor  days  of  the  past,  reverse  : 

That  which  is  grown  beyond  the  sum 

Enormous  in  human  state ,  it  is  no  more  free  from  curse . 


( 2nd  Counter-turn .) 

The  rolling-stone  of  an  elf  Surmise  (110> 

Proves  of  many  a  man  the  saving  ; 

But  eke  she  belies 
Many  a  madcap  craving  : 

She  to  deceit  the  fool  unwary 

Draws  till  he  singe  his  feet  in  the  flame. 

Because  in  wisdom  a  man  declared 
Ages  ago  this  word  of  fame  : 

To  the  fool  comes  late  or  soon  a  season 
When  better  appears  the  worse ; 

It  is  a  God  misguides  his  reason  : 

And  little  enough  the  time  that  he  goes  uncaught  /’ 
th*  curse! m) 


ANTIGONE 


163 


Chorus  ( march  measure). 

See  though  !  Haemon,  latest  begot  of 
All  thy  children,  arrives.  Is  he  groaning 
Over  the  lot  of 

Antigone,  the  betrothed,  his  sweetheart, 

[ Enter  Haemon. 

The  defrauded  bridal  bemoaning  ? 


Cre.  We  soon  shall  know  more  sure  than  any  seer.(112) 
Not  frantic  with  your  father,  lad,  to  hear 
Your  bride’s  consummate  sentence  ?  Are  not  you 
And  I  good  friends  whichever  way  I  do  ? 

Hae .  Sir,  I  am  yours.  My  thoughts  you  still  direct 
In  virtue,  and  I’ll  follow  with  respect ; 

For  never  any  marriage  I  shall  prize 
More  worth  my  winning  than  your  guidance  wise. 
Cre.  Ay, -lad,  so  keeps  the  heart  in  state  of  grace  ! 

All  else  behind  a  father’s  will  has  place. 

For  to  this  end  men  pray  the  sons  they  breed 
May  prove  at  home  no  disobedient  seed, 

That  like  their  sires  they  be  avenged  with  hurt 
Upon  the  foe  and  prize  the  friend’s  desert. 
Breeding  unprofitable  children,  what 
But  trouble  shall  you  say  a  man  has  got — 
Trouble  for  him  and  for  his  foes  loud  laughter? 
Never,  my  lad,  for  pleasure,  running  after 
Woman  make  jettison  of  your  wits  !  Be  sure, 
A  chilly  sort  of  armful  you  secure 
When  a  bad  woman  is  your  bedfellow 
At  home.  So  near  —  and  false!  What  sore 
can  go 


164 


SOPHOCLES 


More  deep  ?  Oh,  spew  her  out,  as  though  she  were 
Your  foe — dismiss  the  girl  to  Hades,  there 
To  get  a  bridegroom  !  Since,  when  I  have  found 
her 

Alone  rebel  when  all  were  loyal  round  her, 

Liar  I  will  not  make  myself  in  the  eyes 
Of  all,  but  kill.  So  let  her  cant  of  ties — 

Her  Zeus-of-kindred  !  Why,  if  I’m  to  feed 
Homebred  disorder,  much  more  the  alien  breed  ! 
The  man  that’s  virtuous  in  the  household  sphere, 
Will  also  honest  citizen  appear. 

But  one  shall  never  conquer  my  applause 
Who  oversteps  and  does  despite  to  laws, 

Or  dreams  of  playing  master  o’er  the  powers. 
Whomso  the  nation  might  set  up,  ’tis  ours, 

In  the  least  things,  tho’  right  or  wrong,  to  obey. 
And  such  a  man  will  be,  I’m  bold  to  say, 

As  fit  to  rule  as  to  be  ruled  he’s  ready  ; 

And  in  the  storm  of  battle  he’ll  be  steady 
To  hold  his  post,  a  comrade  brave  and  true. 
Undiscipline  ! — No  plague  of  blacker  hue  ! 

This  undoes  nations,  this  makes  desolate 
Households,  ’tis  this  can  breach  confederate 
Array  in  rout ;  but  men  well  broken-in 
Most  lives  deliver  by  their  discipline. 

So  by  the  cause  of  order  must  I  stand. 

Never  !  a  woman  get  the  upper  hand  ? 

Nay,  better,  if  needs  must,  be  overthrown 
By  man,  at  least  no  woman’s  mastery  own  ! 

L.  of  Cho.  Unless  by  Time  our  wit’s  purloined  away, 
You  say  with  understanding  what  you  say. 

Hae.  Father,  the  Gods  make  understanding  grow 
In  men,  to  be  the  best  gift  they  bestow. 


ANTIGONE 


165 


I  could  not — and  I  would  I  never  might — 
Gainsay  you  that  you  do  not  say  aright ; 

Yet  no  bad  thing  may  strike  another  too. 
Leastways,  I  being  your  son  am  bound  for  you 
To  observe  what’s  found  to  chide,  what’s  done 
and  said. 

You  have  a  look  these  townsmen  fellows  dread, 
At  any  tale  which  may  not  please  your  ear  ; 

But  I  can  listen  in  the  dark  and  hear 
How  for  this  maiden  all  the  people  wail — 

Never  did  woman's  worth  so  little  avail ! 

She  withers  foully  thanks  to  deeds  most  rare , 

Because ,  her  own-horn  brother  in  warfare 
Fallen}  she  would  not  leave  him  uninterred 
For  dogs  of  prey  to  spoil  or  any  bird. 

Is  she  not  worthy  of  a  golden  prize  ? 

So,  quietly,  the  dusky  rumour  flies. 

For  my  part,  father,  than  your  good  success, 
Nothing’s  more  precious  that  I  could  possess. 
What  greater  ornament  can  deck  his  heirs 
Than  flower  of  sire’s  good  name,  or  him  than 
theirs  ? 

Take  not  for  all  your  wear  one  single  mood, 
Your  sole  dictate  for  sum  of  rectitude  : 

For  whoso  deems  himself  the  one  man  wise 
Above  the  rest  in  tongue  or  spirit  to  rise, 

Being  perused,  looks  void  before  all  eyes. 

Learn  much  :  ’tis  nothing  shameful  even  if 
A  man  be  clever,  that ;  and  be  not  stiff 
To  excess.  You  see  by  torrent-courses  how 
The  tree  that  stoops  keeps  safe  and  sound  his 
bough  ; 

The  stiff  opposing  founder,  stock  and  all. 


SOPHOCLES 


166 


Ev’n  so  the  sailor  who  too  taut  shall  haul 
The  sheet,  and  still  to  yield  an  inch  refuse — 
Capsized,  thwarts  downward,  he  will  end  his 
cruise. 

Oh,  yield  from  wrath,  give  alteration  play  ! 
Because — if,  being  the  younger,  judge  I  may — 

I  hold  ’twould  be  by  long  precedence  best 
Were  man  of  perfect  knowledge  born  possest ; 
However,  since  ’tis  not  the  way  things  turn, 
’Tis  well  to  take  good  prompting  and  to  learn. 

L.  of  Cho.  Sir,  you  might  learn  of  him,  as  well  as  teach, 
When  to  the  point  he  speaks.  There’s  sense 
in  each. 

Cre .  We,  at  our  age,  shall  we  be  brought  forsooth 
To  reason  by  the  schooling  of  this  youth  ? 

Hae.  — Not  to  do  wrong.  I’m  young,  ay ;  but  ’tis  hard 
You  should  my  date  and  not  my  feats  regard. 
Cre .  A  feat  !  to  honour  breach  of  discipline  ! 

Hae .  Not  even  common  rights  I’d  claim  for  sin . 

Cre.  And  is  she  not  to  that  disease  a  prey  ? 

Hae.  The  universal  people  of  Thebes  gainsay. 

Cre.  The  people  are  to  teach  me  how  to  reign  ? 

Hae.  There  spoke  a  voice  of  hotspur  youth,  most  plain  ! 
Cre.  A  king,  and  look  beyond  my  own  control  ? 

Hae.  No  commonwealth  where  one  man  owns  the 
whole. 

Cre.  The  lord  is  deemed  the  commonwealth  to  own. 
Hae.  How  well  you’d  rule  in  empty  lands,  alone  ! 

Cre.  ’Tis  clear  :  he’s  with  the  woman,  hand-in-glove. 
Hae.  If  you’re  a  woman  ! — All  for  you’s  my  love. 

Cre.  Arch-villain  !  Bandy  words  against  your  father  ? 
Hae.  From  doing  wrong,  misled,  I’d  save  him  rather. 
Cre.  Misled  ? — in  honouring  the  sway  that’s  mine  ? 


ANTIGONE 


167 


Hae.  No  honour  if  you  trample  on  rights  divine. 

Cre.  O  scurvy  nature,  cowed  before  a  wench  ! 

Hae.  At  facing  shame  you  shall  not  find  me  blench. 
Cre.  This  plea  of  yours  is  all  for  her  sake  though. 
Hae.  Your  sake,  and  mine,  and  of  the  Gods  below  ! 
Cre.  With  her  alive  I’ll  never  have  you  wed. 

Hae.  Die  then  she  must — but  have  her  victim,  dead. 
Cre.  What’s  that?  So  bold?  You  run  to  threats 
from  pleas  ? 

Hae.  Is  it  a  threat  to  plead  with  void  decrees  ? 

Cre.  Void  of  advice,  I’ll  teach  you  to  advise  ! 

Hae.  Were  you  not  father,  I’d  have  said  Not  wise . 

Cre.  You  woman’s-chattel,  never  seek  to  coax  ! 

Hae.  You  speak,  but  hear  not  what  your  speech 
provokes. 

Cre.  So,  in  good  sooth  ?  Now  by  the  heaven  that 
roofs, 

You  shall  not  gaily  chide  me  with  reproofs. 
Fetch  out  this  pest,  that  she  may  die  outright 
Beside  her  bridegroom,  near  him,  in  his  sight ! 
Hae.  Beside  me,  near  me,  she  shall  ne’er  be  slain — 
Oh,  never  think  it  ! — and  you  ne’er  again 
My  living  presence  face  to  face  shall  view. 

Rave  on  with  such  as  care  to  keep  with  you  ! 

[ Exit  violently. 

L.  of  Cho.  The  man  is  gone,  Sir,  in  the  haste  of  rage  : 

And  hearts  when  grieved  will  rankle,  at  that  age. 
Cre.  Let  him  go  do  his  superhuman  will  ! 

Life  for  this  pair  he  shall  not  purchase  still. 

L.  of  Cho.  Nay,  kill  both  of  them  ?  Will  you  so 
proceed  ? 

Cre .  Not  her  that  had  no  hand  in’t.  Right,  indeed ! 
L.  of  Cho .  And  by  what  manner  is  her  death  decreed  ? 


1 68 


SOPHOCLES 


Cre.  Somewhere  from  human  walk  sequestered  lone, 
I’ll  mew  her  up  alive  in  crypt  of  stone, 

Just  food  enough  allotted  to  absolve (113) 

And  not  with  taint  the  commonwealth  involve. 
There — since  she  worships  none  but  Death — 
she’ll  cry 

To  him  ;  perhaps  he  will  not  let  her  die  ! 

Else,  now  at  last,  she’ll  learn  ’tis  waste  of  breath 
To  render  worship  t’ward  the  realm  of  Death! 

[Exit, 


ANTIGONE 

Chorus. 


169 


[Turn.) 

When  Love  disputes 

He  carries  his  battles  ! 

Love  he  loots 

The  rich  of  their  chattels  ! 

By  delicate  cheeks 

On  maiden’s  pillow 

Watches  he  all  the  night-time  long  ; 

His  prey  he  seeks 

Over  the  billow, 

Pastoral  haunts  he  preys  among. 

Gods  are  deathless,  and  they 
Cannot  elude  his  whim  ; 

And  oh  !  amid  us  whose  life’s  a  day, 

Mad  is  the  heart  that  broodeth  him  ! 

( Counter-turn .) 

And  Love  can  splay 

Uprightest  of  virtue  ; 

Lead  astray, 

Better  to  hurt  you  ! 

’Tis  he  did  the  wrong, 

’Tis  he  beguiled 

Father  and  son  to  feud  so  dire. 

Desire’s  too  strong  ! 

— Out  of  the  eyelid 

Peeped  of  a  lovely  bride,  Desire  ! 

He  with  Law  has  a  court, 

Sovran  in  might  with  her. 

Divine  Aphrodite  wreaks  her  sport ; 

Who  will  be  bold  to  fight  with  her  ? 

[Enter  Antigone,  guarded. 


SOPHOCLES 


Chorus  ( march  measure). 

Ah,  though  !  to  behold  such  a  sight  as  is  here, 

I  am  carried  beyond  the  commandment’s  bar  ! 
No  more  can  I  hinder  the  gush  of  the  tear. 

To  the  chamber  of  bridal  where  all  the 
dead  are 

I  see  Antigone  hasting. 


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172 


SOPHOCLES 


( They  sing  the  following  Dirge  in  antiphons .) 

Dirge. 

(1  st  Turn.) 

Ant.  {sings).  Look  !  You  that  keep 

The  land  I  was  born  in, 

Soon  my  lattermost  goal  I  gain, 

This  my  lattermost  light  of  morning  ; 

Now — ne’er  hereafter  again. 

Death  hath  all  men’s  rest  in  his  giving, 
Home  to  shores  of  Acheron  he 
Carries  me,  living. 

Ay  me  ! 

Never  to  me  there  was  granted 
Marriage  melody,  ne’er  upon 
Me  was  a  bridal  chant  chanted  ; 

Bride  will  I  be  to  Acheron  ! 


{Marching  Measure ,  1st  Stanza.) 

Cho.  Therefore  very  famous  and  full  of  renown 

Thou’rt  passing  away  to  the  charnel-cave  ; 
For  none  like  thee  yet  alive  goes  down 

So  free  of  herself  to  the  Prince  of  the  Grave  ; 
Not  paid  with  the  wage  of  the  sword  for 
reward, 

Nor  smitten  of  sicknesses  wasting. 


ANTIGONE 


*73 


(i  st  Counter- -turn .) 

Ant .  Of  women  dead 

Never  I  listened 

Tale  more  sad  than  the  Phrygian  guest, <114) 
Wife  to  Tantalus — her  that’s  prisoned 
High,  near  to  Sipylos’  crest. 

Like  the  clutch  of  ivy,  the  growing 
Stone  subdued  her  :  pillar  of  ooze, 
Rain  everflowing 
Bedews ! 

Snows  that  eternally  heaping, 

Down  from  blubbered  eyelids  fall, 

Ever  a  breast  of  stone  steeping  ! 

Rest  that  is  liker  mine  than  all ! 


[Marching  Measure ,  2nd  Stanza.) 

Cho.  But  divine  was  she  and  divine  was  her  birth  ; 
While  we  are  but  mortal  and  children  of  earth, 
Why,surethere  is  honour  enough  in  thestory — 
“  She  in  her  life  and  her  death  gained  glory , 

Like  terms  with  the  Godlike  tasting 


l7  4 


SOPHOCLES 


(2 nd  Turn.) 

Ant.  [sings).  Ye  mock  me  then  ! 

Why  will  ye  face  to  face  torment  me 
Before  I  be  parted  ? 

O  ye  Gods  o’  my  grand- 
sire’s  land  ! 

Shame  upon  home  and  the  homebred  men, 
Dowered  with  plenty  ! 

O  Dirce  founts,  and  O  domain 

Of  Thebe,  Lady  of  Lash  and  Bit/115) 

(All  forsake  me,  but  you  I  gain) 

Witness  it  ! — 

— How  dies  by  friends  unwept  a  maiden, 
How  the  doom 

Consigns  me  to  the  barrow-laden 

Cloister  of  strange  charnel-room. 

Cry  woe  ! 

Dismally  forbidden 

Human  abode  or  ghost¬ 
ly  coast, 

From  dead  men  hidden 
As  from  living,  I 
Must  lie  ! 


(3 rd  Turn.) 

Cho.  The  edge  of  daring  thou  wouldst  tread  ; 

But  ’gainst  the  Law’s  high  pedestal 
Ruinously,  O  my  child,  didst  fall  ! 

Perchance  sire’s  venture (116)  wreaked  on  children’ 
head. 


ANTIGONE 


175 


( 2nd  Counter-turn .) 

Ant .  Thou  touchest  there 

Sorrowfullest  of  meditation. 

The  griefs  of  my  father, 

Tale  thrice-hackneyed  again 

Of  pain  : 

Children  of  Labdakos  all,  we  bear 
This  tribulation. 

Alas  for  curse 'on  mother’s  bed  ! 

For  those  incestuous  hours  of  his, 

His  disaster  and  hers  who  bred 

Miseries  ! 

What  parentage  was  mine,  engendered 
From  such  stem  ! 

And  now  I  go  my  way  surrendered — 

Curst,  unwed — to  lodge  with  them. 

Cry  woe ! 

Fie,  what  bridal,  brother, 

This  that  the  fates  decree 
For  thee  ! 

Dead  thou  slay’st  another  ! 

Dead,  the  living  still 

Canst  kill  ! 


(3 rd  Counter-turn .) 

Cho.  He’s  leal  to  God  that’s  leal  at  all  :  (117> 

But  whoso  is  of  power  possess’d 

Can  noway  brook  his  power  transgress’d. 

A  self-willed  passion,  daughter,  caused  thy  fall. 


SOPHOCLES 


[Aftersong.) 

Ant .  Unwept  for,  without  any  to  befriend  me, 

Sore  at  heart,  unhymned  as  a  bride  ! 

Forth  they  lead  :  the  way  is  wide. 

Far  from  the  holy  sun’s  eye  will  they  send  me, 
Solitarily  banned  to  languish  ! 

None  bemoans  my  tearless  anguish, 

No  near  and  dear  ones  at  my  side. 


Re-enter  Creon. 

Cre.  Know  you,  these  songs  and  dirges  before  death 
Will  never  cease  if  one  allow  them  breath  ? 
Quick  then,  away  with  her  !  Folded  and  hidden 
Within  the  vaulted  grave,  as  you  were  bidden, 
Leave  her  alone,  forsaken — if  she  choose, 

To  die,  or  ’neath  that  roof  to  sepulchre 
Alive  :  I  wash  my  hands  concerning  her  ; 

But  leave  to  lodge  in  the  light  I  will  refuse. 

Ant.  O  grave  !  bride-chamber  !  everlasting  cell  ! 
Burrow  in  the  rock  !  whither  I  go  to  dwell — 
And  join  mine  own,  the  perished  number  whom 
Phersephassa  hath  lodged  in  dead-men’s  room. 

I,  last  of  all  and  woefullest  by  much, 

Descend  before  my  date  of  days  I  touch. 

Yet,  there  arrived,  sure  hope  I  have  to  greet 
In  love  my  father  ;  loving  welcome  meet, 
Mother,  from  you ;  and  love  from  you,  my 
brother  ! (118) 

For  when  you  died,  it  was  my  hand,  none  other, 
Did  laver  and  ceremony  and  funeral  cup 
Bestow  ;  and  now  your  bones  I  covered  up, 


ANTIGONE 


*77 


My  Polyneices,  and  behold  my  wage  ! 

[And  yet  ’twas  good  to  honour  you,  a  sage 
Counsel  will  say.  No — not  for  a  child  I’d  bred, 
Not,  had  it  been  a  husband  weltering,  dead — 
Would  I  have  braved  the  world  and  done  this 
task  ! 

What  law  was  this  which  so  required  ? — you  ask  : 
Successor  had  been  found  to  husband  dead  ; 
Child  by  another  man,  in  lost  child’s  stead  : 

But,  father  and  mother  in  death  deposited, 

To  be  my  brother  none  could  e’er  arise. 

Such  was  the  law  made  me  prefer  and  prize 
You  most ! — which  Creon  judged  a  sinner’s  part 
And  dread  presumption,  O  my  brother-heart ! 
And  now  he  carries  me  in  close  arrest, 
Unbedded  and  unchanted,  unpossest 
Of  marriage  lot  or  bringing  up  of  sons  : 
Ill-starred  creature,  forlorn,  that  kindred  shuns, 
Living  I  reach  my  burrowed  dead  -  men’s 
cage.]  (119) 

What  heavenly  covenant  did  I  outrage  ? 

Why  should  I  any  more  my  dismal  eye 
Uplift  to  Gods  ?  on  whom  for  succour  cry  ? 

My  loyal  act  has  reaped  disloyalty  ! 

Well,  well,  if  this  be  good  in  sight  of  God, 
We’ll  learn  to  feel  our  sins  beneath  his  rod  ; 

If  they  re  the  sinners — no  worse  let  them  be 
Done  by,  than  they’ve  unjustly  done  to  me  ! 


M 


178 


SOPHOCLES 


Trio  and  Solo  in  march  measure . 

Cho.  Still  is  the  storm  of  the  soul  not  gone, 

Still  wild  winds  in  her  heart  are  flying. 

Cre.  Some  shall  have  cause  for  weeping  anon, 

That  go  to  their  office  unwilling  ! 

Ant .  Ay  me  !  ’tis  a  word  that  attains  very  near, 

This,  unto  dying  ! 

Cre .  I  can  comfort  ye  not,  nor  forbid  you  to  fear 
’Tis  a  fate  will  be  soon  a-fulfilling  ! 


Solo. 

Ant.  Town  of  my  sires  in  the  country  of  Theb6, 
Gods  of  my  fathers  ! 

They  lead  me  away  :  no  more  I  await. 
Witnesses,  Theban  princes,  will  yh.  be  : 

Last  of  the  race  of  your  kings,  desolate, 

You  see  what  I  am,  what  are  they,  what  a  fate 
My  faith  to  fidelity  gathers  ! 

[Exit  guarded. 


Zens  to  Taer  did  impart 
To  treasure  a  polder. 

Slao-wx  of  Lis  Seed. 


i8o 


SOPHOCLES 


Chorus/120^ 

(ij/  Turn.) 

Even  so  Danae, 

Beautiful  as  she  was, 

Bore  to  barter  away 

The  light  in  a  court  of  brass. 

She  to  the  yoke  was  holden  : 

Piled  as  a  tomb  her  bridal  room, 

Deep  sequestered  apart. 

Yet  hers  was  a  famous  line  ; 

Zeus  to  her  did  impart 
To  treasure  a  golden 

Show’r  of  his  seed. 

Strange  and  mighty  indeed 
The  ways  of  the  Will  Divine ! 

There’s  neither  wealth,  nor  war,  norsable 
Surge-belaboured  ships  at  sea, 

Nor  fortress  is  able 

To  escape  what  is  to  be. 


ANTIGONE 


181 


(ist  Counter -turn!) 

Dryas’  son (121)  to  the  yoke 
Bowed,  the  Edonian  king — - 
Sharp  of  gall  to  provoke, 

Hasty  the  taunt  to  fling  : 

Him  Dionysus  fences 

Captive  alone  in  bonds  of  stone  ; 

Leaves  him  there  to  distil 

The  mettle  of  tempers  crazed, 

The  efflorescence  of  ill ! 

And,  brought  to  his  senses, 

He  rued  that  he  had 
Harmed  a  God  with  his  mad 
Hands,  and  the  taunt  he  phrased  ; — 

Who  fain  would  stay  the  routs  that 
scamper 

Loud  with  Bacchanalian  fires, 

And  dared  to  tamper 

With  the  Muses’  piping  quires. 


182 


SOPHOCLES 


[2nd  Turn.) 

There  is  a  place  at  the  Dusky-blue  Rocks  where  an 
ocean-floor 

Gulfs  twin  seas  in  a  race,  ’tis  the  Bosporus’  churlish 
shore, 

Salmydessus  of  Thrace  : 

There  did  Ares 

(For  his  home  is  neighbour  of  these) 
Witness  a  wound  of  damn’d  disgrace — 

A  sightless,  maimed 
Wound  which  cruel  consort  (122>  aimed 
At  th’  eyes  of  Phineus’  sons,  yet  to 
be  avenged  of  God  ! 

The  stepsons’  eyes 
Did  her  bloody  hands  deface 

With  a  tool  devised 
From  dagger-pointed  weaving-rod. 


ANTIGONE 


{2nd  Counter-turn .) 

Piteously  they  in  a  pitiful  agony  tears  did  shed, 
Wasting  ever  away,  for  a  mother’s  sake  unwed.(123> 
Yet  by  seed  she  could  lay 
Claim  to  her  place 
In  the  old  Erechthei’d  race  ;  (124> 

She  in  a  cave  long  leagues  away 
Was  reared,  a  child 
Amidst  paternal  whirlwinds  wild, 

— The  Northwind’s  daughter,  cour¬ 
ser-fleet  upon  the  hill  ! 

Her  sire  a  God  : 

And  still  the  Dooms  of  ancient  day, 

My  daughter,  trod 
Hard  and  hard  upon  her,  still. 


184 


SOPHOCLES 


Enter  Teiresias,  blind ,  walking  by  the  help  of  his 

serving-boy . 

Tei.  Princes  of  Thebe,  we  have  made  combined 
Journey,  one  pair  of  eyes  for  both  :  the  blind 
Obeys  his  guide — ’tis  all  the  walk  he  has. 

Cre.  And  what’s  your  tidings,  old  Teiresias? 

Tei.  I  will  advise  you  :  listen  to  my  lore. 

Cre.  Have  I  not  held  with  vour  advice  before  ? 

Tei.  — And  steered  aright  the  commonwealth  thereby. 
Cre.  To  your  good  service  I  can  testify. 

Tei.  [solemnly).  Take  heed  !  you  balance  on  a  blade  of 
chance. 

Cre.  What’s  this  ?  I  shiver  at  such  utterance. 

Tei.  Listen  :  the  signals  of  my  art  will  teach. 

My  ancient  seat  of  auguries  I  reach 
(Haven  which  all  the  tell-tale  wings  decoys), 
And  hear  of  birds  an  unfamiliar  noise. 

Some  ugly  jabbering  torment  pricked  their  cries  ; 
Each  tore  and  clawed  at  each  in  murderous  wise — 
I  knew,  for  I  could  read  the  whirr  of  wings. 
Forthwith  alarmed,  I  tried  burnt-offerings 
On  altars  full-embrased  :  no  fire  upsprings 
Clear  from  the  sacrifice,  but  o’er  the  embers 
Weltered  only  a  rheum  of  oozy  members, 

And  fumed  and  spewed  ;  and  scattered  flew  the 
gall 

Upon  the  air,  the  moulting  thigh  bones  all 
Loll  from  their  fatty  envelope  revealed. 

My  divinations  droop,  my  mysteries  yield 
No  answer — so  the  stripling  signified, 

Who  stands  to  me,  as  I  to  others,  guide. 


ANTIGONE  185 

This  malady  on  the  state  your  will  has  thrown. 
Our  every  hearth,  our  every  altar-stone 
Is  rank  with  carrion,  dogs  and  birds  may  fetch 
From  CEdipus’  dead  son,  the  luckless  wretch. 
Therefore  the  Gods  against  our  prayers  are 
turned, 

Our  prayers  and  sacrifice  of  members  burned. 
No  bird  whistles  his  call  of  warning  plain, 
Battened  on  succulent  carnage  of  the  slain. 

These  things,  my  son,  consider.  It  is  the  way 
Of  all  mankind  alike  to  go  astray  : 

But  when  a  man  has  erred,  he  is  no  more 

Unblest  nor  unadvised,  if  the  sore 

Case  he  shall  cure  and  not  refuse  to  budge. 

For  Stubbornness  is  folly ,  says  the  judge. 

Yield  to  the  dead  man  !  Do  not  stab  the  slain  ! 
What  prowess  this,  to  kill  the  dead  again  ? 

Good  will,  good  words — and  oh,  the  sweetness 
of  it, 

Good  words  to  hear,  and  find  them  words  of  profit ! 
Cre.  Old  man,  I’m  butt  for  you  to  level  at 

Like  archers  all.  Seercraft  ? — Not  even  of  that 
Untraded  !  By  such  fellows  long  enough 
Have  I  been  bought  and  sold  like  merchant’s  stuff. 
Profit  away  !  and  traffic  all  you  can, 

Sardian  electre(125)  and  gold  of  Hindustan  ! 

You  shall  not  in  a  grave  install  the  man 
— Tho’  to  the  throne  of  Zeus,  Zeus’  eagle-brood 
Ravening,  shall  please  to  carry  him  for  food : 

I  will  not  fear  defilement  even  so, 

Nor  yield  him  sepulture.  For  well  I  know, 

No  man’s  so  strong  that  Gods  he  can  defile. 

But,  old  Teiresias,  there  awaits  a  vile 


SOPHOCLES 


1 86 


Fall  for  your  mighty  cunning  ones,  who  make 
Vile  pleas  and  gloze  them  fair,  for  profit’s  sake  ! 
Tel  Fie  ! 

Lives  there  the  man,  can  know,  can  apprehend 
Cre.  [scornful).  Know  what  ?  How  might  this  general 
precept  end  ? 

Tel  — How  far  good  counsel  is  the  best  of  treasure  ? 
Cre.  And  bad’s  worst  loss :  no  doubt  in  just  such 
measure  ! 

Tei.  Yet  with  this  malady  your  condition’s  rank. 

Cre.  With  taunt  for  taunt  the  seer  I  would  not  thank. 
Tei.  You  do  !  As  false  my  prophecy  you  describe. 
Cre.  Prophets,  they’re  all  a  money-loving  tribe  ! 

Tei .  The  tyrant’s  brood  love  dirty  pilferings. 

Cre.  Know  you  that  what  you  speak  is  spoken  of 
kings  ? 

Tei.  I  know  :  this  realm  I  taught  you  how  to  save. 
Cre.  A  skilful  seer,  but  likes  to  play  the  knave. 

Tei.  Y ou’ll  have  me  tell  what  deep  in  heartIVe  shrined. 
Cre.  Rifle  your  shrine — but  not  for  profit,  mind  ! 

Tei.  That  much,  I  think,  for  your  part,  is  secured. 
Cre.  You  shall  not  buy-and-sell  me,  rest  assured. 

Tei.  Rest  very  well  assured  you  shall  not  run 
Many  another  emulous  wheel  of  the  sun, 

Ere  you’ll  have  rendered  up,  dead  man  for  dead 
Atoning,  one  from  your  own  bowels  bred  : 
Forthat  you  have  brought  low  which  was  on  high, 
And  foully  in  the  grave  put  life  to  lie  ; 

While  him  you  keep,  of  the  Under  Gods’  demesne 
Disfranchised,  undispensed,  a  corpse  unclean. 

For  duty  untouched  by  you  (by  the  High 
Gods  too<126) 

Untouched,  unless  they  must,  outraged  of  you), 


ANTIGONE 


187 

— For  that,  the  mutilator  fiends  of  Hell, 
Retributors,  are  bid  by  Heaven  as  well 
Beset  your  path  till  you  likewise  be  lost. 

Examine  well,  if  I  be  silver-crost 
To  speak  it !  Lapse  of  no  long  time  shall  rouse 
Wailings  of  men  and  women  in  ycur  house. 

And  through  all  realms  the  word  for  war  is  given, 
Whose  mangled  losses  dog  and  beast  have 
shriven ; 127 

Or  feathered  fowls  to  each  man’s  country  bear 
Hearthwards  the  filthy  stench  to  leave  it  there. 
Here’s  archery — since  you  made  my  soul  to 
smart — 

Arrows  of  anger  levelled  at  the  heart, 

Unerring,  and  you  shall  not  dodge  the  sting  ! 

But  lead  me  home,  my  lad,  and  let  him  sling 
His  anger  upon  heads  of  younger  date, 

And  learn  to  train  a  tongue  more  temperate 
And  better  senses  than  his  present  state. 

[Exit,  led  by  the  serving-boy . 
L .  of  Cho.  Sir,  he  is  gone — but  after  prophesying 

Grim  things.  In  all  the  length  of  days  a-dyeing 
My  hair  from  black  to  white,  declare  I  do, 
Never  his  public  word  was  found  untrue. 

Cre.  I  know  it,  too  :  my  soul’s  perplexed  with  doubt. 
To  yield  is  frightful ;  yet,  by  standing  out, 

O  frightful  choice  ! — must  pride  in  ruin  break  ? 
L .  of  Cho.  Son  of  Menoeceus,  the  good  counsel  take  ! 
Cre .  What  must  I  do  then  ?  Speak,  and  I  will  follow. 
L .  of  Cho.  Go  free  the  maiden  from  her  dungeon 
hollow, 

And  lay  the  exposed  body  to  his  rest. 

Cre.  Approve  you  so  ?  You  judge  surrender  best  ? 


1 88 


SOPHOCLES 


L.  ofCho.  Ay,  Sir,  and  no  time  lost !  Swift-footed  press 
The  hurts  of  Heaven  to  seize  on  foolishness. 

Cre .  Oh,  hard  !  I  leave  my  will  behind,  and  do  it : 

Who  struggles  with  necessity  must  rue  it. 

L .  of  Cho.  Go  then  and  do,  and  trust  it  not  to  others. 
Cre .  ( suddenly  much  agitated ).  Ev’n  as  I  am,  I’ll  on  ! 
Up,  every  mother’s 

Son,(128)  or  no  son,  of  you  !  Up  !  Up  !  hench¬ 
men  all, 

Away  with  you,  axe  in  hand,  to  yonder  knoll  ! 
And  I,  since  resolution  so  comes  round, 

I  will  release  in  person  whom  I  bound. 

To  keep  the  laws  of  use  and  wont,  I  doubt 
But  that’s  the  best  of  all,  till  life  be  out. 


DIONYSUS  WITH  HIS  THIASOS  OF  SATYRS  AND  MAENADS 


From  a  Vase  in  the  British  Museum.  $th  Century  B.C, 


A  189 


ANTIGONE 


189 


Chorus.*129) 

(1  st  Turn.) 

To  the  glory  and  joy  of  Cadmus’  daughter  praise 
upraise  ! 

Many-titled  !  Thunderer  Zeus’ 

Begotten  offspring  !  Charged  to  ward 
Italy’s  famous  land,  and  lord 
O’er  the  mother-lap  of  Eleusis 
Where  a  world  resorts 
Worshipping  in  Deo’s  courts.*130) 

For  Thebe  is  all  thine  own, 
Bacchus’  Bacchanal  town, 

By  sliding  smooth  Ismeni’an  sluices, 

Soil  of  cruel  Dragon  sown  ! 


(irf  Counter -turn!) 

And  the  murkily  glow’ring  flambeaux1  flash  hath  seen 
thy  mien 

O’er  the  twin-topt  crest  of  the  mountain, 

Whereon  the  Nymphs  Corycian  *131)  play 
(Votaries  all  of  Bacchus  they), 

Met  beside  the  Castaly  fountain. 

And  the  Nysa*132)  steeps, 

Banks  whereon  the  ivy  heaps, 

(While  tongues  superhuman  phrase 
Jubilation  of  praise) 

And  vineyards  cluster’d  thick  beyond  counting 

Speed  thee  home  to  Theban  ways. 


190 


SOPHOCLES 


(2 nd  Turn.) 

She  loved  us  more  than  any  nation, 

She  that  died  in  thunder, <133>  and  thou 
Lov’st  us  dearly  :  come  !  for  we 

Caught  in  grips  of  a  malady  rude 
Labour  all  in  our  multitude. 

O  pass  with  feet  of  purification 
Down  along  Parnassian  brow, 

Or  by  the  moaning  firth  of  sea  ! (134> 


(2 nd  Counter -turn.) 

Arise  !  Thou,  who  lead’st  to  pleasure 
Troops  of  stars (135)  whose  breath  is  a  fire  I 
Marshal  of  the  uproarious  night  ! 

Child  of  Zeus  !  The  begotten  of  God  ! 
Bring  thy  votaries  wild,  who  trod 
For  thee  the  nightlong  ecstasy-measure  ; 

Steward  of  their  hearts’-desire  ! 

Bacchus !  Arise !  Appear  to  sight ! 


ANTIGONE 


191 


Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mes.  Neighbours  to  Cadmus’  and  Amphion’s  roof, 
Never  with  commendation  or  reproof 
Any  estate  in  lives  of  men  I’ll  hail  : 

For  Chance  may  lift  and  Chance  may  dip  the  scale 
Of  fortune  and  misfortune  any  day. 

No  earthly  seer  the  Appointed  can  foresay. 

For  Creon’s  lot,  time  was,  I  used  to  count 
Worth  coveting  :  he  throned  it  paramount 
In  Thebe,  ruled  the  land  which  he  did  save  ; 
And  shewed,  with  flower  of  noble  children,  brave. 
And  all  foregone  !  For  let  a  man  forsake 
His  joys — no  more  account  of  him  I  make 
As  living  :  he’s  a  dead  man,  breathing  still ! 
Keep  a  proud  house  and  costly,  if  you  will, 

And  keep  a  kingly  style  ;  if  thus  you  live 
And  have  no  joy  of  it,  I  would  not  give — 

For  all  but  that — the  shadow  of  a  smoke  ! 

L.  of  Cho.  You’ve  news?  What  more  to  afflict  our 
royal  folk  ? 

Mes .  Deaths  !  And  the  guilt  upon  a  living  head. 

L .  of  Cho .  But  who’s  the  murderer,  and  who’s  the 
dead  ? 

Mes.  Haemon,  by  hands  familiar  overthrown. 

L.  of  Cho.  By  the  hand  of  his  father,  or  his  own  ? 
Mes.  His  own,  enraged  by  murder  against  his  sire. 

L.  of  Cho.  Seer,  what  direct  event  your  words  require  ! 
Mes.  Deal  with  it  as  you  will,  so  stands  the  thing. 

L .  of  Cho.  But  look,  the  unhappy  consort  of  our  king, 
Eurydice,  is  with  us  !  This  advance 
Abroad — is’t  tidings  of  her  son,  or  chance  ? 


192 


SOPHOCLES 


Enter  Eurydice  jrom  the  Palace . 

Eur.  O  burghers  all,  I  overheard  your  talk 
As  I  for  Pallas’  fane  set  on  my  walk 
To  seek  the  Goddess  and  in  prayer  adore. 

And  as  I  slipt  the  latch  and  drew  the  door 
To  open,  sounds  of  household  misery  smite 
Upon  my  ear  :  I  sank,  for  very  affright, 

Back  on  my  waiting-women  and  swooned  out¬ 
right. 

Tell  me  again,  tho’, — I  can  bear,  because 
I’m  trained  in  sorrow — what  the  story  was  ? 

Mes.  Dear  Madam,  what  I  shall  tell  I  did  behold, 

And  not  a  syllable  of  the  truth  withhold. 

Why  should  I  phrase  you  soft,  and  Time  display 
My  tale  a  liar’s  ?  Truth’s  the  straightest  way  ! 

I  brought  your  consort’s  feet,  attending  him, 
Where  Polyneices  on  the  plain-land’s  rim 
Yet  lay,  a  corpse,  dog-worried,  pitiless. 

Then  to  the  Lady  of  Crossways  (136)  we  address 
Prayer,  and  to  Pluto,  mercifully  to  abate 
Their  wrath  ;  and,  laved  with  laver  immaculate, 
In  fresh-pulled  boughs  the  poor  remains  consume  ; 
Of  native  mould  a  straight-capt  barrow-tomb 
We  heaped,  and  next  we  turned  to  seek  the  cave, 
That  stony-paven  bridal-bower  of  the  grave. 

A  voice  we  heard,  far  off ;  a  clear  lament 
Up  from  the  unfuneralled  gallery-chamber  (137> 
went : 

Which  one  drew  near  the  king  to  signify. 

The  same  unmeaning  miserable  cry 
Enveloped  his  approach.  He  groaned  a  strain 
Sad  as  a  dirge  to  utter,  Grief  and  pain  ! 


ANTIGONE 


193 


Am  I  a  prophet  ?  Does  this  journey  bode 
Disaster  worse  than  any  bygone  road  ? 

My  son  !  His  voice  caresses  me  !  Go  near , — 
Quick  ! — servants! — place  you  by  the  tomb ,  and  peer! 
That  joint  in  the  barrow-mound — that  rocky  breach , 
In  with  you  there  !  On  till  the  mouth  you  reach — 
See  if  I  know  his  voice ,  or  Gods  delude  ! 

Urged  by  our  downcast  lord's  solicitude, 

We  peered.  In  the  after- part  of  the  sepulchre, 
Hung  by  the  neck,  we  first  had  sight  of  her, 
Clipt  by  a  thready  halter-knot  of  lawn. 

He,  with  his  arms  about  her  middle  drawn, 
Clung  fast — the  match  undone  among  the  dead 
Bemoaning,  father’s  acts,  the  dismal  bed. 

He,  when  he  saw  his  son,  with  sullen  moan 
Comes  in  to  him  ;  then  loud  in  dirge-like  tone, 
0  wretch !  What  handiwork  has  here  been 
wrought  ? 

What  meant  you  ?  Where's  the  stroke  that  so 
distraught  ? 

Come  out .  I  supplicate ,  beseech — my  child  ! 

But  the  boy  stared  at  him  with  eyeballs  wild, 
Spat  in  his  face,  and  answered  not  a  word, 

But  tugged  the  cross  hilt-pieces  of  his  sword. 

His  father — whipt  away  in  flight — he  missed  : 
But  then  and  there,  self-maddened,  turned  his 
wrist 

And  leaned — the  blade  plunged  midway  in  his 
side  !  [ Exit  Eurydice. 

Close  to  his  failing  arms  he  folds  his  bride, 

Yet  conscious  :  panting  forth  an  eager  flood, 
Dyes  the  white  cheek  with  crimson  gouts  of 
blood  j 

N 


194 


SOPHOCLES 


And  dead  about  the  dead  he  lies — poor  boy  ! 

His  marriage-rite  only  in  the  grave  to  enjoy  : 
Preaching  to  all  the  world  how  thoughtlessness 
Is  worst  of  ills  that  can  a  man  possess. 

L.  of  Cho.  What  may  you  make  of  this  ?  My  lady,  fled 
Back — not  a  word,  or  good  or  evil,  said  ? 

Mes .  Well,  I’m  amazed  !  And  yet  on  hopes  I  fare  : 
Her  son’s  sad  news  received,  she  will  not  care 
To  wail  at  large,  but  close-retired  prepare 
Her  maids  to  mourn  a  private  grief  with  her. 
She  does  not  want  for  sense,  that  she  should  err. 
L.  of  Cho.  I  know  not :  too  much  silence  is  no  less 
Ill  circumstance  than  cries  in  vain  excess. 

Mes.  Well,  we  shall  know — maybe  in  secret  fashion 
She  covers  with  restraint  a  heart  of  passion — 

If  we  advance  and  enter.  Ay,  Pm  with  you  : 
Your  too  much  silence,  that  is  ominous  too. 

[Exit. 


Chorus  ( march  measure'). 

See  tho’ — the  king  in  person  advances. 
Yon  monument  whereupon  he’s  bending, 
(God  forgive  me  !)  of  none’s  mischances 
Tells  tale  but  his  own  offending. 


ANTIGONE 


195 


Enter  Creon  with  attendants  carrying  the  body  of 
Haemon  on  a  bier . 

Dirge. 

[Turn  A.) 

Cre .  Heigho  ! 

The  fool's  retribution — 

Wise  fool  ! (138) — for  sin, 

Deathly,  pitilessly  will’d  ! 

See  we  pass,  all  akin  : 

Yet  some  here  be  killers 

And  some  be  killed. 

Woe  for  the  wise  presuming, 

Misfortunate  ! 

O  lad  freshly  blooming  ! 

Fresh-fallen  fate  ! 

Not  thy  folly  but  mine, 

To  death's  dissolution 
Thee  doth  resign. 


Cho.  How  all  too  late  the  right  you  now  divine  ! 
[Turn  B.) 

Cre .  Ay  me  ! 

Oh  all  too  well  I  know  it !  Yet  methinks, 
these  days 

A  God  heavily  'lighting 

Has  oppressed  my  brain  : 

He  smote  and  hurried  me  along  bloodthirsty  ways, 
Ay  me  !  Spurned  my  pleasure,  wrecked  what 
I’d  upraise. 

O  man,  man  !  doomed  to  fighting 
Pain,  toil  and  pain  ! 


196 


SOPHOCLES 


Enter  a  Messenger  from  the  palace . 

Mes.  O  Sir,  enough  in  hand,  enough  in  store  !  <139) 
This  much  to  come  and  go  upon,  and  more 
Anon,  within,  of  troubles  to  be  had  ! 

Cre.  What  worse  can  yet  remain  when  all’s  so  bad  ? 
Mes.  Your  wife  is  dead — to  motherhood  too  true, 
Poor  lady  !  Fresh  the  cuts  her  knife  did  hew. 

( Counter-turn  A.) 

Cre.  Heigho ! 

O,  past  all  atoning, 

Thou,  hav’n  ot  Death, 

Thou  br ingest  me  to  naught  ! 

Tale  of  woe  rumoureth 
This  convoy  of  anguish, 

Ill-tidings-fraught. 

Why  will  ye  have  a  dead  man 
Despatched  anew  ? 

Rehearse  the  grief  you  said,  man  ! 

What  more’s  to  rue  ? 

A  victim  yet  to  fall  ? 

A  wife  lost  !  The  crowning 
Doom  closes  all  ! 


Cho .  You  may  behold  :  ’tis  no  more  closeted.  Lo  ! 
[The  doors  open  and  the  body  a/Eurydice  is  exposed. 


( Counterturn  B .) 

Cre .  Here,  sorrow-stricken,  I  behold  another  blow  ! 
Remains  yet  any  other  ? 

Is  any  yet  undone  ? 

This  little  while  my  arms  uplift  my  child,  and  oh, 
Alas  !  here  before  my  face  yet  one  lies  low  ! 

Oh  ill-starred  the  mother, 

Ill-starred  the  son  ! 


ANTIGONE 


J9  7 


Mes .  She  at  the  altar’s  base  with  whetted  blade 

Relaxed  her  darkling  eyelids.  Loud  she  made 
Lament  for  Megareus,(140)  nobly  doomed  before, 
And  then  for  him  ;  and  last  on  you  she  laid, 
Who  killed  her  sons,  a  spell  of  trouble  in  store. 


“  That  stony-paven  bridal-bower  of  the  grave” 


SOPHOCLES 


198 

[Turn  C.) 

Cre .  Ay  me  !  ay  me  ! 

The  fears  I’m  possess’d  with  ! 

Why  comes  there  none 
To  strike  deep  my  breast  with 

Two-edg£d  blade  ? 

O  the  miserable  one  ! 

With  anguish  to  anguish 

My  bones  are  brayed  ! 


Ales.  Ay,  for  the  guilt  of  this  and  that  blood  shed 
Were  you  impeached  by  her  that  now  is  sped. 
Cre.  After  what  bloody  sort  did  she  depart  ? 

Mes.  Her  stab  went  suicidal  home  to  the  heart, 
When  she  had  word  of  him  piteously  dead. 

[Turn  D.) 

Cre .  Ay  me  !  ne'er  on  other 

Name,  midst  mankind, 

The  burdens  that  smother 

Me,  shall  they  bind. 

’Twas  I,  I  that  slew  thee 
(O  cruel  case  !) ; 

Confest,  I  did  undo  thee  ! 

Oh,  forth  the  place 
Remove,  hurry  me,  loving 

Hands,  forth  convey  ! 

Say  ne’er  He's  as  nothing — 

He  is  not ,  say  ! 


L.  of  Cho.  Counsel  of  gain — if  gain’s  here  any  more 
Least  is  the  best  of  troubles  at  the  door. 


ANTIGONE 


199 


( Counter-turn  C.) 

Cre .  Draw  nigh,  anigh  ! 

Approach  doom  supremest, 

So  dear  and  great 
Beyond  all  thou  seemest ; 

Lead  on  with  thee 
Unambiguous  fate  ! 

And  these  eyes  no  longer 

Sunlight  shall  see. 


L.  of  Cho.  That’s  yet  to  come  :  we’ve  here  enough  to 
adjust 

In  hand.  The  rest  may  lie  where  lie  it  must. 
Cre.  On  that  I  doat,(141>  which  all  my  prayer  exprest. 
L.  of  Cho.  Then  pray  no  more  !  Man  gets,  as  Fate 
likes  best, 

A  lot ;  and  stays  perforce  thereof  possest. 


( Counter-turn  D.) 

Cre.  Away,  forth  convey  the 

Rash  fool,  away ! 

I  ne'er  meant  to  slay  thee, 

Child,  I  did  slay. 

And  her  too  !  I  slew  them  ! 

O  cruel  case  ! 

I’ve  no  heart  to  view  them  ; 

No  resting-place. 

To  wry  ends  abhorred 

Swerves  all  I  touch  : 

And  Doom  round  my  forehead, 

Swooped,  keeps  his  clutch. 


200 


SOPHOCLES 


Finale  {in  march  measure ) 

Cho.  Wisdom’s  a  great  way  first  in  the  making 
Of  a  happy  estate  !  No  duty  to  God 
Leave  unacquitted.  Great  boasts  breaking 
From  presumptuous  men,  for  reward  taking 
Great  stripes  of  the  rod, 

Bring  a  fool  in  his  age  to  th’  awaking. 

\Exeunt  omnes . 


COMMENTARY 


KING  CEDIPUS 

1  The  suppliant  carried  a  branch  tufted  with 
flocks  of  wool,  and  laid  it  upon  the  altar  or  altar- 
steps.  So  to  i  deposit  your  branch  ’  was  a  synonym 
for  to  come  with  a  suppliant’s  petition  (Demosthenes, 
de  Corona).  The  successful  suppliant  removed  his 
branch.  2  i.e.  thank-offering  from  such  as  have  escaped 
the  plague.  3  Others  interpret  the  Greek  word  by 
‘  acquiescence.’  4  i.e .  a  public  deputation.  5  Known 
respectively  as  Athena  Oncaia  and  Athena  Ismenia. 
6  Altar  of  Apollo  on  the  bank  of  the  Ismenus,  where 
divination  by  fire  was  practised.  7  i.e.  the  Plague  of 
Fever  personified.  8  “  Perhaps  at  these  words  the 
actor  prostrates  himself  at  the  King’s  feet  ”  ( Scholiast ). 
9  “We  see  that  men  of  experience  have  more  success 
by  their  flukes  than  the  inexperienced  and  theoretical 
men,”  says  Aristotle  ( Metaph .  981a  14).  The  Chorus 
Leader  is  flattering  CEdipus’  favourite  weakness — con¬ 
ceit  in  his  own  mother-wit.  10  Imitated  in  Ap.  Rhod. 
Argon,  ii.  633.  11  See  Aristoph.  Plutus ,  21.  12  Creon 

equivocates  because  the  first  word  spoken  by  a  new¬ 
comer,  especially  on  a  solemn  occasion,  is  an  omen  : 
a  bad  word  might  bring  bad  luck.  13  For  the  im¬ 
probability  of  CEdipus’  ignorance,  see  Jebb’s  Introd. 

201 


202 


SOPHOCLES 


p.  xxv.  14  A  very  fine  example  of  the  i  Sophoclean 
irony.’  CEdipus  has  heard  only  a  moment  before 
that  it  was  ‘  robbers,’  yet  by  a  slip  of  the  tongue  he 
uses  the  singular  ;  and  the  audience  thinks  of  him. 
15  Already  a  suspicion  of  Creon’s  complicity.  16  So 
the  Greek,  literally;  but,  in  fact,  the  ceremony  was  an 
asperging  with  a  brand  dipped  in  holy  water  (cf.  Eur. 
Hercules ,  922).  17  The  Scholiast  calls  this  particular 

example  of  Sophoclean  irony  c  rather  sensational  than 
in  keeping  with  the  grand  manner,’  and  thinks  it 
worthier  of  Euripides  than  Sophocles.  18  An  inten¬ 
tional  equivoque  :  the  Greek  phrase  conveys  either 
“ your  wife”  or  u your  temper .”  19  The  abruptness  of  this 
question  betrays  a  suspicion  long  entertained.  20  See 
Philoctetes ,  138.  21  Properly  an  itinerant  minister  of 

the  orgiastic  worship  of  the  Great  Mother  (Cybele), 
introduced  from  Asia  and  already  strong  in  popular 
favour.  22  The  Sphinx,  kvcov  is  used  with  great  free¬ 
dom  in  metaphor,  e.g.  of  eagles  (Aesch.),  of  harpies 
(Ap.  Rhod.),  of  the  god  Pan  (Pindar).  Balladmonger , 
because  she  had  installed  herself  in  the  public  place  of 
Thebes  like  a  rhapsode  come  to  recite.  23  i.e.  not  a 
slave  or  resident  alien,  who  might  not  defend  them¬ 
selves  in  person,  but  must  be  represented  by  their 
master  or  patron.  24  Apollo,  son  of  Zeus.  25  For  the 
bull  as  the  type  of  surly  moping,  see  Jebb’s  examples. 
26  I  have  not  rendered  the  two  slightly  different 
measures  in  these  stanzas  (change  from  choriambics 
to  ionics)  :  both  express  the  agitating  debate  in  the 
mind  of  the  Chorus  between  the  authority  of  CEdipus 
and  that  of  Teiresias.  They  conclude  by  ranging 
themselves  provisionally  with  the  King  in  his  distrust 
of  prophets,  therein  typifying  the  agnostic  intellectuals 


COMMENTARY 


203 


of  Athens,  who  did  not  deny  the  supernatural,  but  dis¬ 
credited  any  claim  by  one  man  to  be  its  interpreter 
more  than  any  other.  27  This  obscure  phrase  is  most 
probably  explained  by  Schneidewin’s  reference  to 
Aelian  H.  A.  7,  48  :  to  take  count  of  a  place  by  calcula¬ 
tion  of  stars  —  to  avoid  it.  28  The  Chorus,  whose  per¬ 
petual  role  is  to  stand  for  the  unprejudiced  average,  and 
who  have  only  doubtfully  inclined  to  take  sides  with 
CEdipus  against  Teiresias,  are  now  shocked  into  a  timid 
normal  piety.  They  sing  the  dangers  of  Pride,  u/3/h?, 
of  which  one  aspect  is  the  tyrannous  usage  of  Creon 
by  CEdipus,  and  another  —  intellectual  pride  —  is  the 
scepticism  of  CEdipus  and  still  more  of  Jocasta  (pp.  1,  li). 
29  i.e.  CEdipus’  ordeal  with  the  Sphinx  :  they  fear  the 
popular  hero  may  now  be  overthrown.  30  Because 
prevailing  impiety  is  a  public  danger,  may  be  visited 
upon  all  ;  indeed,  if  it  is  not  visited  with  punishment, 
what  meaning  is  left  in  religious  exercises  ? — “  Why 
tread  we  a  measure  ?  ”  81  The  three  great  shrines — 

Delphi,  the  Navel  stone  ;  Abae,  in  Phocis  (Herod, 
viii.  33),  and  Olympia.  32  Literally,  ‘  wife  in  full 
complement  ’ ;  a  house  without  master  or  without 
children  was  called  rjfUTeXrjs,  ‘at  half  complement.’ 
33  See  Note  12.  34  For  an  exhaustive  account 

of  the  recognition  of  Tvgrj  as  a  goddess,  and,  in 
later  Greek  times,  her  supreme  importance,  see  Rohde, 
Der  Griechische  Roman ,  &c.,  p.  276.  36  i.e.  I  was  a 

castaway  and  am  now  a  king.  36  As  in  Ajax  and  in 
Antigone ,  just  before  the  disaster  a  false  hope  lures  the 
Chorus  to  sing  an  ode  of  exultation.  They  jump  at 
the  guess  that  CEdipus  is  a  child  of  some  nymph  (these 
are  the  6  folk  undying  ’ — cf.  Aesch.  in  P.  V.  553,  of  the 
nymphs  in  his  chorus)  by  one  of  the  pastoral  gods 


204 


SOPHOCLES 


— Pan,  Apollo,  Hermes,  or  Bacchus.  37  i.e.  the 
autumnal  equinox.  38  In  allusion  to  the  chorus  on 
p.  43.  39  Providence  personified  in  a  Aai/uov.  It 

may  be  the  Daemon  of  a  family  or  of  an  individual ; 
the  conception  varies  between  a  Destiny,  a  Genius,  a 
Guardian  Angel,  and  a  possessing  Fiend. 


CEDIPUS  UP  AT  COLONOS 

40  Athens  —  that  is,  Attica  according  to  the  heroic 
nomenclature.  41  For  the  names  and  attributes  of  the 
Eumenides,  see  Warr’s  Aeschylus.  42  A  natural  chasm 
here,  perhaps  originally  volcanic,  reputed  (like  most 
such  places)  an  entrance  to  the  underworld,  had  its 
adit  paved  with  steps  of  bronze  or  brass  (see  Jebb’s 
notes  on  0.  C.  57  and  1690).  43  A  statue  of  Colonos 

is  shewn  on  the  stage.  The  name  merely  means  hill, 
but  the  Greeks,  of  course,  invented  an  eponymous 
hero,  as  it  were  an  original  Mr.  Hill,  to  personalise 
the  spot  in  legend  :  just  as  the  4  Secret  Isle  ’  became 
the  goddess  Calypso.  44  v.  Aesch.  Eum.  107.  45  Be¬ 

cause  4  nothing  would  satisfy  him  ’  (as  we  would 
say),  but  he  must  commit  this  sacrilegious  trespass. 
46  Literally, 4  giving  speechless  vent  to  the  reverence  in 
their  heart.'*  47  See  42.  48  The  dactylic  monody, 

44  the  latest  development  of  the  dactylic  measure,”  only 
appears  once  in  Sophocles  ( Philoctetes ,  1196),  except 
here.  It  is  a  concession — like  all  this  amcebaean 
passage  of  lyrics — to  a  change  of  taste  at  Athens. 
The  disintegration  of  Tragedy  moved  in  two  direc¬ 
tions,  led  by  Euripides — towards  the  Prose  Drama 
and  towards  the  Opera.  The  public  desired  bravuras 


COMMENTARY 


205 


in  which  fashionable  singers  might  shine  in  the 
execution  of  increasingly  complicated  music.  In  such 
passages  it  is  idle  to  look  for  much  pure  literary  effect  in 
the  bare  surviving  libretto .  Some  ancient  editors  denied 
the  authenticity  of  Antigone’s  solo  and  the  following 
four  lines.  49  The  bracketed  lines  look  rather  like  an 
alternative  version.  50  “Thessalian  felts  were  ex¬ 
cellent,”  says  the  Scholiast,  and  quotes  Callimachus 
in  support.  A  cap-shaped  crown  with  a  broad  brim 
may  be  seen  as  headpiece  to  some  of  the  fourth 
century  terra-cotta  statuettes.  51  Derived  from  Hero¬ 
dotus,  ii.  35.  52  i.e.  when  one  word  might  have  saved 

me.  53  The  Eumenides.  54  See  44.  55  Verg.  Eel. 

viii.  101.  66  i.e .  Antigone.  67  The  Council  of  Areo¬ 

pagus  :  for  its  powers  in  this  particular,  see  Jebb  on 
O.  C.  947.  58  The  doctrine  is  this  :  If  a  man  sin 

wilfully,  he  is  punished  by  gods  with  an  infatuation 
which  leads  him  on  to  sin  again.  CEdipus  is  con¬ 
scious  of  no  wilful  wrong  in  himself  (see  p.  83),  there¬ 
fore  he  ascribes  his  involuntary  misdeeds  to  a  family 
curse,  working  as  described  in  Antigone  (chorus  on 
p.  1 61).  59  The  shore  near  Eleusis,  bright  because  of 

the  torchlight  processions  at  the  Eleusinian  Festival. 
c0  Metaphorical  for  the  pledge  not  to  reveal  the  Mys¬ 
teries.  Jebb  has  an  admirably  full  commentary  on 
the  whole  passage,  concerning  the  Eumolpid  priest¬ 
hood,  &c.  61  Artemis.  62  This  cant  antithesis  of 

the  day  (see  Thucydides,  passim)  gives  point  to 
A.  Croiset’s  suggestion  that  Sophocles  designed  to 
portray  in  Theseus  the  liberal  virtues  of  Periclean 
Athens.  63  For  this  pessimism,  see  Introd.  Essay,  pp. 
lvi  and  lx.  It  is  part  of  the  Ionian  colour  with  which 
Sophocles  is  everywhere  touched,  and  in  this  play 


206 


SOPHOCLES 


especially  more  than  tinged.  Bacchylides  has  the 
same  sentiment  (v.  160,  Kenyon),  6vcltoI<jl  jit)  cfrdvcu 
(pepicrrov  ;  the  Schol.  quotes  Theognis,  425,  to  the 
same  effect,  and  Jebb  furnishes  other  like  passages. 
64  i.e.  in  the  beggar’s  usual  wallet.  The  Schol.  notes 
the  rhetorical  skill  in  the  arrangement  of  Polyneices’ 
speech.  65  i.e.  the  curse  on  your  house.  66  Pelopon- 
nese — so  called  from  a  mythical  King  Apis.  67  For 
this  list  as  well  as  for  the  story,  see  Aeschylus’  Septem 
and  Euripides’  Phoenissaey  and  Statius’  Thebais :  com¬ 
pare  also  Antigone ,  pp.  142-44.  68  See  39.  69  i.e.  sym¬ 

bolic  posture  as  suppliant,  to  which  Polyneices  has 
appealed  in  God's  votaristP  70  They — the  curses. 
The  Cyclic  Thebaid  gave  as  the  reason  for  CEdipus’ 
curses  a  legend  of  Hesiodic  rudeness  :  Eteocles  and 
Polyneices  used  to  send  to  CEdipus  in  his  blindness  a 
shoulder  of  sacrificial  meat  ;  one  day  they  fob  him 
off  with  an  inferior  joint,  and  in  anger  he  curses  them. 
This  tale  was  employed  by  the  writers  of  New 
Comedy,  with  whom  the  cookery  motif  was  a  favour¬ 
ite.  The  Scholiast  (on  0.  C.  1375)  quotes  a  line  of 
Menander  and  a  considerable  anonymous  fragment  from 
a  writer  of  the  early  fourth  century.  71  I  think  the 
meaning  of  this  grim  epithet  lies  in  the  ‘ fatherless  to 
me ,’  eight  lines  above  :  he  implies,  i  Erebus,  that  is  all 
the  father  you  have  left.’  72  These  verses  serve  to 
connect  the  present  play  with  Antigone ,  its  sequel  in 
dramatic  order,  but  composed  some  thirty  or  forty 
years  earlier.  73  i.e.  this  is  a  second  painful  scene  in 
which  CEdipus  figures  :  first,  the  episode  of  Creon, 
now  this  with  Polyneices.  The  supernatural  char¬ 
acter  of  CEdipus  is  now  more  clearly  perceived  by 
the  Chorus,  who  are  completely  reconverted,  and 


COMMENTARY 


207 


prepared  to  justify  all  the  ways  of  God  to  men.  74  The 
Thebans,  as  brood  of  the  Dragon’s  teeth  which 
Cadmus  planted.  75  It  is  hard  to  avoid  reading  into 
these  lines  and  CEdipus’  former  address  to  Theseus 
on  p.  85,  Sophocles’  judgment  on  the  latter  days  of 
his  lifetime,  the  rapid  downfall  of  Athens  in  punish¬ 
ment  for  her  vfipis.  76  Text  doubtful.  77  See  42. 
Threshold  Cataract,  i.e.  the  downward  plunging  or 
precipitous  threshold.  78  A  natural  hollow  in  the  ground 
(like  our  English  Devil' s  Punchbowls ),  named  by  legend 
the  place  where  Theseus  and  Peirithous  made  a  pact 
together  before  descending  into  Hades,  whence  they 
were  rescued  by  Hercules  (see  Euripides’  Hercules). 
The  tallies  were  probably  marks  on  the  rock  (Jebb) 

79  The  Scholiast’s  refusal  to  explain  is  the  most  reason¬ 
able  commentary  on  these  local  particulars  :  “  these 
things  are  familiar  to  the  people  of  the  place f  he  says. 

80  Demeter  Euchloos’  shrine  stood  on  a  neighbouring 
small  hill  (v.  map  in  Jebb’s  Introduction).  81  The 
Greek  leaves  it  doubtful  whether  their  crying  or  the 
thunder  is  meant.  82  i.e.  ‘  since  Fate  takes  this 
course  ’ — a  metaphor  perhaps  from  the  trend  of  a 
road.  83  i.e.  unhonoured  with  funeral  rites.  84  The 
parts  played  by  the  sisters  respectively  in  Antigone 
are  excellently  foreshadowed  in  this  short  duet  :  Is- 
mene  submissive  and  cautious,  Antigone  all  enthusiasm 
and  passionate  affection.  85  This  vague  phrase  seems 
to  convey  both  kindness  from  the  Gods  Underground , 
and  also  the  blessing  which  it  was  foretold  should  accrue 
upon  CEdipus '  burying-place. 


208 


SOPHOCLES 


ANTIGONE 

86  Evidently  when  he  wrote  this,  Sophocles  had  as 
yet  no  thought  of  the  Colonean  part  of  the  story. 
87  i.e.  her  dead  brothers,  or  perhaps  (by  an  euphemistic 
plural)  Polyneices  alone.  88  There ,  i.e.  by  the  usual 
Greek  idiom,  in  death.  89  The  religious  obligation  of 
burial.  90  The  mystical  turn  of  phrase  suits  with 
Antigone’s  state  of  spiritual  exaltation.  91  Admirably 
in  character  :  a  vulgar  dramatist  would  have  made  her 
bind  Ismene  to  secrecy.  92  i.e .  enthusiasm  in  an  un¬ 
promising  cause.  93  The  etymological  meaning  of  the 
name  Polyneices.  So  in  Queen  Elizabeth’s  poem — 

“  The  Daughter  of  Debate, 

That  eke  discord  doth  sow  ” — 

of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots.  94  See  74.  95  This  stanza  and 
the  next  Turn  specially  refer  to  Capaneus,  taken  as 
type  of  the  assaulting  army.  See  Polyneices’  cata¬ 
logue  of  the  Seven  (p.  116  of  this  volume)  and  Jebb’s 
note  on  0.  C.  1319.  96  Literally,  “Ares,  that  off 

trace-horse.”  The  Greek  felt  nothing  undignified 
in  this  common  metaphor  for  a  helper  at  need 
(see  Aesch.  Agamemnon ,  842).  97  Zeus  Tropaios. 

98  Eteocles  and  Polyneices.  99  i.e.  Thebes,  cf.  p.  174. 
Critias  (fr.  1)  attributes  the  invention  of  the  chariot  to 
Thebes.  100  The  subtlety  of  Greek  can  equivocate 
between  4  own  ’  and  4  kindred  ’  in  such  words  as 
avrogeip  and  <£/A,o?,  cf.  p.  191: — 

“  Mes.  Haemon,  by  hands  familiar  overthrown. 

Chor.  By  the  hand  of  his  father,  or  his  own  ?  ” 

101  The  proverb,  44  Office  shews  the  manf  was  attri¬ 
buted  to  Bias  and  others  of  the  Seven  Sages.  102  i.e. 


COMMENTARY 


209 


just  enough  to  constitute  a  formal  burying  and  so 
escape  the  defilement  of  passing  by  an  unburied 
corpse  (v.  the  authorities  collected  by  Jebb  on  Ant. 
255).  103  i.e.  a  disaffected  party  in  Thebes.  104  This 

rhetorical  patch  of  Euripidean  sophism  (like  the 
passage  between  Creon  and  the  Messenger  presently, 
and  like  the  dialogue  between  Creon  and  Haemon, 
pp.  164,  165)  is  characteristic  of  Sophocles’  earlier 
manner,  exemplified  also  in  Ajax .  The  later  plays 
are  singularly  pure  from  such  matter  ;  in  particular,  it 
is  the  admirable  relevancy  of  every  line  which  makes 
CEdipus  Rex  his  masterpiece.  105  Perhaps  an  echo  of 
Prodicus  the  Sophist,  who  first  articulated  the  differ¬ 
ences  between  4  synonyms,’  and  drew  out  antitheses 
of  4  opinion  ’  and  4  afterthought,’  4  guessing  ’  and 
4  certainty,’  &c.  106  The  course  of  thought  in  this 

chorus  is,  first,  the  marvellous  ingenuity  and  power  of 
man  ;  next,  the  degeneration  of  these  talents  into 
knavery.  107  Her  doctrine  is  that  human  law  is  cir¬ 
cumscribed  by  divine  law  ;  when  it  transgresses  this 
major  obligation  it  loses  validity.  108  Theirs  —  the 
dead.  109  The  dust  which  Antigone  sprinkled  on  her 
brother  by  way  of  burial  is  bloody  because  it  causes  her 
death.  110  Surmise.  ’EXttU  includes  in  Greek  all  our 
several  notions  of  hope ,  belief  anticipation ,  surmise. 
111  Quern  perdere  vult  Deus}  prius  dementat  is  taken  from 
an  anonymous  Greek  tragic  fragment  quoted  here 
by  the  Schol.  : — 

8rav  5’  6  dai/icjv  avdpi  iropavvri  k<xkcl 

tov  vovv  2j3\a\J/e  Trp&Tov  ip  f3ov\ei>eTCU 

(v.  Jebb’s  Appendix).  112  A  cant  phrase  like  our 
4  gospel-truth.’  113  That,  technically ,  she  may  not  be 
starved  to  death.  Jebb  cites  the  usage  of  allotting  a 

o 


210 


SOPHOCLES 


dole  to  a  vestal  virgin  at  Rome  when  she  was  buried 
alive  (Plutarch,  Num.  io).  114  Niobe,  daughter  of 
Tantalus,  queen  to  Amphion  of  Thebes.  For  a  dis¬ 
cussion  of  the  Niobe  in  the  rock  on  Mt.  Sipylus,  see 
Jebb’s  note  on  831.  116  See  99.  116  Venture^  by  a 

common  ironical  euphemism  for  sin.  The  doctrine  of 
heredity  in  guilt  is,  I  think,  invariably  reserved  for 
lyrics,  and  not  introduced  among  dramatic  motifs  of 
the  first  order,  except  in  a  perfunctory  hint  like 
0.  C.  965.  Professor  Butcher  has  shewn  how  much  its 
influence,  even  upon  Aeschylus,  has  been  exaggerated. 
117  That  is,  the  service  rendered  to  Polyneices  is  a 
kind  of  service  rendered  to  God.  118  Eteocles. 
119  The  bracketed  verses  are  perhaps  not  from  the 
hand  of  Sophocles,  unless  we  have  here  one  of  those 
“unaccountable  lapses”  with  which  the  author  of 
The  Sublime  taxes  him.  The  verbal  evidence  (which 
decisively  condemns  a  similar  rhetorical  amplification 
in  Ajax)  is  slightly  against  their  authenticity.  But 
the  thought  is  derived  from  Sophocles’  favourite 
Herodotus  ;  and  the  lines  stood  in  the  text  as  early  as 
Aristotle’s  day,  who  cites  them  in  illustration  of  a 
canon  of  rhetoric.  From  Sophocles’  finished  work 
we  might  strike  them  out  unhesitatingly,  but  there 
are  other  passages  in  Antigone  which  shew  that  the 
sophistic  influence  was  peculiarly  strong  upon  him 
when  he  wrote  this  play.  Certainly  the  passage  is 
better  without  them  :  they  fall  coldly  across  the 
midst  of  her  passionate  parting  speech.  120  General 
theme — the  cruelty  of  Fate  upon  the  guiltless  and 
the  guilty.  Two  examples  point  to  Antigone,  a  third 
(Lycurgus)  prepares  for  Creon’s  punishment.  121  Ly- 
curgus,  King  of  Thrace,  who  played  the  same  part  as 


COMMENTARY 


211 


Pentheus  at  Thebes  in  resisting  the  cult  of  Dionysus. 
From  its  kinship  with  Dionysian  origins,  there  was 
no  more  favourite  subject  of  tragedy.  According  to 
one  version,  he  was  imprisoned  in  bonds  of  vine  ;  if 
Sophocles  followed  this  account,  “  bonds  of  stone  ” 
will  mean  u  bonds  stiff  as  stone  ”  :  so  the  Scholiast. 
122  “Phineus  married  Cleopatra,  daughter  of  Boreas 
and  Oreithuia,  and  by  her  had  two  sons,  whose  names 
are  variously  given.  After  her  death  he  married 
Idaea,  daughter  of  Dardanus,  or,  according  to  another 
account,  Eidothea,  sister  of  Cadmus.  She  treacher¬ 
ously  blinded  Cleopatra’s  sons,  and  imprisoned  them 
in  a  tomb  ”  (Apollodorus).  123  Unwed  for  unhappily 
wed ,  probably  ;  but  the  expression  is  obscure  and 
equivocal,  and  the  many  variants  of  the  legend  make 
it  even  more  doubtful.  124  Oreithuia,  her  mother,  was 
daughter  to  Erechtheus,  King  of  Attica.  125  An  alloy 
of  gold  with  silver.  126  The  Gods  of  Heaven  do  not 
concern  themselves  with  burial,  which  is  the  Under¬ 
gods’  (Pluto,  Hecate,  &c.)  province  ;  but  now  they 
are  provoked  by  Creon’s  outrage,  and  the  Erinues 
will  pursue  him  by  their  commission  as  well  as  the 
commission  of  the  Gods  of  Hades.  127  For  not  only 
Polyneices,  but  the  foreign  invaders  with  whom  he 
was  leagued,  had  been  left  unburied.  Sophocles 
alludes  to  the  favourite  Athenian  legend  of  the  Sup- 
plices ,  at  whose  request  Theseus  forced  the  Thebans 
to  accord  burial  to  the  dead  Argives  (see  Jebb’s 
Note  and  Appendix).  128  Literally,  “  those  of  you  who 
are  there  and  those  who  are  not.”  I  have  tried  to 
imitate  this  forcible  absurdity.  129  See  36.  Creon 
has  yielded  !  The  Chorus  return  to  the  point  of 
mind  where  they  were  at  the  end  of  the  first  chorus 


2l2 


SOPHOCLES 


(p.  145),  and  call  upon  Bacchus  to  come  and  lead  the 
rejoicings  in  victorious  Thebes.  130  Demeter,  because 
Iacchus  shared  with  her  in  the  Mysteries..  131  For 
the  Corycian  cave  on  Mount  Parnassus,  see  Aesch. 
Eum.  22.  132  Almost  in  every  country  where  Diony¬ 

sus  was  worshipped  there  was  a  Nysa  to  -justify  his 
name.  Here  it  is  in  Euboea.  133  Semel£.  134  The 
Euripus.  135  The  elements  share  in  the  Dionysiac 
exultation  (Eur.  Ion.  1078).  136  Hecate.  137  “  The 

kind  of  tomb  which  the  poet  here  imagines  is  perhaps 
best  represented  in  Greece  by  the  rock  tombs  of 
Nauplia  and  of  Spata  in  Attica.  These  consist  of 
chambers  worked  horizontally  into  the  rock,  and 
approached  by  a  passage  or  Spofios,  answering  to  that 
which  Creon’s  men  have  to  traverse  before  they  reach 
the  GTopuov  of  the  tomb  ”  (Jebb).  138  i.e.  foolish  in  his 
would-be  wisdom.  139  As  it  were  a  current  account 
and  a  deposit  account  of  misfortunes.  Such  is  the 
man’s  homely  trade  metaphor.  140  Megareus  or 
Menoeceus  was  Haemon’s  only  brother,  who  devoted 
himself,  as  one  descended  from  the  Dragon  stock,  to 
appease  the  anger  of  Ares  against  Thebes  (see  Eur. 
Phoen.  930  foil.,  and  Statius’  Thebais ,  x.  589).  141  Creon 
plays  to  CEdipus  (p.  61)  the  part  that  the  Chorus  here 
plays  to  him. 


INDEX 


TO  THE  TOPICS  OF  THE  INTRODUCTION 


Aeschylus,  xvii — 

his  counter  -  reformation, 
xxv 

his  technique,  xxxiv-v,  xl 
the  Oresteia,  xxxv 
his  genius,  xxxix 
his  religion,  li 
Prometheus  Luomenos ,  li v 
Alexander  Aetolus,  lxxviii 
Anaxagoras,  xxv 
Antiphon,  xliv 

Architecture,  analogy  from, 
xxiii 

Argos,  xxiv 
Aristophanes,  xvii,  xxx 
Arnold,  M.,  quoted,  xviii,  liv-v, 
lix,  lx 

Athens  under  Pericles,  xxii 

Bacchylides,  Aegeus,  xxxiv 
Barr&s,  Maurice,  quoted,  xix 
Boutmy,  E.,  xxii,  xxxix 
Burial,  as  a  motif ,  liii 
Burke  quoted,  lxxiii 
Byron,  Marino  Faliero,  xliv 

Charity,  liii 
Cicero  quoted,  lxxi 
Colonos,  lxxi 

213 


Counter- reformation  under 
Pindar  and  Aeschylus,  xxv 
Creon  in  Antigone ,  1 
Croiset,  A.,  quoted,  xxxviii 

De  Quincey  quoted,  xxix, 
xxxi,  xxxvi 

Dionysius  Halic.  quoted,  lxxv 
Dionysus,  xxxiii 

ev/3ov\la,  li,  lv-vi 
Euripides — 

his  scepticism,  xxv,  xlvii, 
xlix 

Cyclops ,  xxvii 

contrasted  with  Sophocles, 
xxviii,  liii,  lxvi,  lxxiv, 
lxxix 

un-Periclean  in  spirit,  xxxi 
begins  the  New  Tragedy, 
xxxii,  xxxvi 
his  realism,  xli,  lxxiv 
his  choruses,  xlv 
his  inconsistency,  lii 

Four  hundred,  Revolution  of 
the,  lix 

Gorgias  (see  Sophists) 


214 


INDEX 


Heber  quoted,  xliv 
Herodotus,  xxix,  xlvii 

Ion  of  Chios,  xxx 

Jocasta  (in  (Ed.  i?.),  1 

Kinglake  quoted,  xxxiii 

Longinus  quoted,  lxxiv-v 

fxavTLKT]  (Seers  and  Seercraft), 
xlviii,  lii 

Mercantile  class,  xxix 
Messengers’  speeches,  lxxxiv 
Milton,  xx 

Nature,  classical  sentiment  for, 
lxx 

Neoptolemus ,  xlvii,  Iviii,  lxii 
Odysseus ,  xlvii,  lxii 
Parthenon,  xlii 

Peloponnesian  War,  xxvii, 
xxviii 

Periclean  Age,  xxi,  xxvi,  xxxi, 
lxxxvi 

Pericles,  xxiv,  xxx,  Iviii 
Philoctetes ,  xlvii 
Pindar,  xxv,  xli,  lxxv 
Plutarch  quoted,  xxxviii, 
lxxiii,  lxxv 

Probable,  the,  as  a  canon  of  art, 
xxxv 

Religion,  Greek,  xlvi 
Renaissance  in  Italy,  xxi 
Renan  quoted,  lxxxvi 
Representative  artists,  xx,  xxi, 
xxviii 

Ruskin,  his  doctrine  of  Peace 


and  War  exemplified,  xxiv; 
quoted,  xliii 

Scepticism,  xxv 

Simmias  Thebanus  quoted, 
lxxii 

Smallness  a  quality  of  beauty, 
lxxiii 

Socrates,  xxv,  lii 
Sophists,  xxxviii,  xli,  lxxix 
Sophocles — 

his  impersonality,  xvii, 
lxviii-ix 

his  classic  position,  xix 
his  birth,  xxvii 
anecdotes  of  him,  xxx, 
Iviii,  lxviii 
his  task,  xxxv 
his  improvements,  xxxviii, 
lxxxv 

CEdipus  Rex ,  xxxix,  xliv, 
xlix,  liv 

the  artist  in  words,  xli 
his  iambic,  xliii,  xliv 
CEdipus  Coloneus,  xliii,  liv, 
lxv,  lxix,  lxxi,  lxxiii, 
lxxvii,  lxxx 

Ajax,  xliii,  xliv,  1,  lvi, 
lxxvii,  lxxviii,  lxxxi 
his  choruses,  xlv 
Antigone,  xlviii,  1,  lv,  lvi-vii, 
lix,  lxiii,  lxv 

his  mysticism,  li,  liii,  lxiii 
his  tenderness,  lvi 
his  Ionicism,  lx 
his  sensuousness,  lxi 
his  Greek  fondness  for 
cunning,  lxii 
his  sententiae,  lxvi-viii 
his  style,  lxxii-lxxxiv 
his  alleged  avw/xaXla,  lxxv 
Electra ,  lxxvi 


INDEX  21 


Sophocles  (continued) 

his  philological  sense,  lxxix 
his  personifications,  lxxxiii 
2o(p6K\et.op  ddos,  xliv 
Speculation,  the  rise  of,  xxxvii 
State-right,  lvi 

Story  telling,  Greek  genius  for, 
xxxiii 

Tacitus,  xlvii-viii 
Tennyson,  xxviii,  lxxix 
Teukros  (in  Ajax),  xlvi,  lxxviii 
Thucydides,  xxxviii 


Time,  Sophoclean  conception 
of,  as  agent,  lxiv-vi 
Tolerance,  lv 

Tragedy,  nature  of  Attic,  xxxiii 

Trilogy,  xxxix 

Trochaic  tetrameter,  xxxiv 

i)/3pts,  1 

Wordsworth,  lxxvi 
Xenophon  quoted,  xix 


THE  END 


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